


Idolatry

by veorlian



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Sacrifice, Slow Burn, and a little bit of canon divergence as a treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 43
Words: 129,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24900028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veorlian/pseuds/veorlian
Summary: Idolatry: the worship of an idol or cult image, being a physical image, such as a statue, or a person in place of God.Envision the ruins of a church in the broken-down slums of Paris, 2162. A young girl, paper thin, stares up at the shattered remainders of a stained-glass Joan of Arc. A saint, a soldier, a martyr to her cause. See the young girl bend, break, until she has become her idol. Come closer, now, to hear the legend of The Shepard.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Comments: 152
Kudos: 60





	1. Beginnings, Endings

**Author's Note:**

> I just finished playing Mass Effect for the first time and I'm really in my feelings about Shepard. She just *clenches fist* deserves better.

_Blood, sweat, I'll break my bones_

_Till all my scars bleed golden_

_My name's forever known_

-Legend, The Score

There was a dilapidated ruin of a church that lay amongst the tumble-down slums of Paris. The glistening lights of the golden city couldn’t quite penetrate into the darkness of those streets. Shepard, nameless, flitted through them like a wraith. Every night, she made her way to the church, and she curled in on herself between the disused pews.

The stained glass windows of the church had long since fallen prey to stray gun shots and vandals, but one remained partially intact. _Jeanne d'Arc -_ Joan of Arc, resplendent in her ruin, still stared up at the dust-covered rafters. Shepard’s makeshift bed had been hauled under that window – within easy reach of escape routes – and when she laid down to rest she would turn her heavy eyes up to the saint, and talk to the glass in a dry, rasping whisper.

She told Joan everything; the colour of the sky at dawn, the names she’d given the bats that lived in the ceiling, her hopes, her fears. Sometimes, when the streets were silent and the wind lay still, Shepard imagined she could hear Joan singing to her. There was a small plaque below the window telling the story of the saint, and Shepard could recite it from memory. It was how she taught herself to read.

Shepard’s parents had left her with a last name, but no first name. Voices scathing, the street rats of the Tenth Street Reds called her Jeanne. It fell on her like a benediction. It was something for her to aim for, a goal to aspire to. Shepard didn’t believe in God, but she believed in Joan of Arc with every fibre of her malnourished body. She admired her goodness, and her strength, and her bravery in the face of pain.

When she told the Reds she was going to enlist with the Alliance, Finch took a baseball bat to the window. Eyes red-rimmed, teeth bared, Shepard picked up the glass and slashed him across the face. The sharp edges bit down deep into her palm and she had to choke back her scream. Clutching the glass tight, ignoring the blood pouring down her hands, she ran, and ran, and ran. She never returned to the church. Jeanne became Joan, leaving the vulnerable young girl behind.

When she was a child, Shepard hadn’t expected to live past her teens. But then she did survive, again and again. Apparently she had a knack for living. She threw herself in harm’s way to protect others and all she took away were a few scars and a medal.

Captain Anderson was, in many ways, the parent that she had never had, had never dreamed of having. His morals were her morals, his words her gospel. Her time as his XO on the Normandy was one of the brightest memories she had. With each new, impossible choice that she was asked to make in the following years, she looked to Joan, and she looked to Anderson, and she followed in the shadows that they had cast. 

Shepard saved the Rachni queen, and rescued every colonist on Zhu’s Hope. She looked Garrus in the eyes and told him that they were better than Saren, that if a job was worth doing it was worth doing right. She helped Tali complete her Pilgrimage, found Wrex’s family armour, stopped Garrus from killing Dr. Saleon. She gave, and she gave, and asked for nothing in return.

Joan Shepard was in the business of self-denial. She kept her feelings buried away, obscured by a heavy layer of compassion and wry humour. Everyone was kept at arm’s reach. If asked, no one in the squad would be able to say anything specific about Shepard, aside from the fact that her driving and her dancing were tantamount to war crimes. No one knew about her past. No one knew about her present, really. They knew she was a model leader, a paragon of virtue, a symbol of kindness. That was all.

There was one small hiccup, one chink in her armour. When she walked out of Chora's Den and saw Finch's face, her vision flashed red. She could barely hear his request over the roaring in her ears, the stinging in her hands. She noticed that his face had scarred, and she felt some vindictive satisfaction in that. Some bruised and battered part of her soul demanded that she kill him, that she tear him apart like he'd done to her.

But she had brought Garrus along with her. Garrus, who wanted to operate outside of the law and break rules. Garrus, who respected her authority and followed in her footsteps. Garrus, whom she had convinced to spare Dr. Saleon. She couldn't let him see her fall apart. And so she choked down her rage, and asked Finch what he wanted. Her desires didn't matter anymore, only the example that she set. 

With every day that passed, Shepard wondered if the universe wanted her dead, wanted her a martyr. It was a terrible burden that was demanded of her, an exacting standard she always struggled to reach. Her responsibilities hung heavy on her shoulders, gauging deep shadows under her eyes. She developed a habit of digging her nails into her palms when she was upset, aggravating the old scars. Dr. Chakwas wrapped her up without question, each and every time.

That jagged shard of glass, worn smooth with time, was kept tucked away in Shepard’s locker. She had a pocket added to her armour so she could carry it with her on missions. She offered no explanation, and her crew never asked. 

Virmire hit her hard. Her persona, too brittle, shattered like glass. She didn’t sleep for days, plagued by nightmares of Kaidan dying. Food was ashes in her mouth, and she couldn’t keep down what little she managed to eat. Eventually she found a dark corner of the Normandy, wrapped her arms around herself, and cried for the first time in years. For the first time since she left Earth, maybe. And then she dusted herself off and kept going. There was work left to be done.

They called her the hero of the Citadel, for defeating Saren and Sovereign. She didn’t want that, didn’t want to mean so much to so many. Whenever you’re more than a person to someone, you’re also less than a person to them. But she knew firsthand what it meant to have an idol. And so she accepted the title, and she did everything that was asked of her. And so they kept asking, and asking, until there was nothing left of Shepard to give.

And then, finally, she died. Died and was released from her work, her constant need to do better, to be better, her one-woman crusade to sainthood. At a certain point, martyrdom and freedom became inextricable. As her space suit ruptured, Shepard closed her eyes and pictured the derelict rafters of the church. She heard the leathery flap of bat wings, and, feather-light, soft singing. And then she was gone.


	2. Angels and Saints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dossier: Archangel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, looking at Paragon and Renegade interrupts: I just think they're neat.

_Fortune up and left me on the hotel floor_

_Well you know she never paid me no mind_

_I was lying in the corner making eyes at the door_

_They say it's good to start the story with a tragedy_

-Fistfight, The Ballroom Thieves

_Softness. Familiar scars, unfamiliar lightness. The weight lifted from her shoulders. Safe, protected, warm. Gone._

The cold, clinical lights of Project Lazarus lanced through her eyes, the heavily sanitized air burning sharp in her lungs. Living, it turned out, was a difficult habit to shake. Cerberus had built her back from the ground up, painstakingly gluing her together piece by broken piece. For all intents and purposes, she was the same Shepard she’d always been.

Almost the same.

The scars on her hands were gone, to begin with. They said it was to make it easier for her to hold a gun, and to make her hands less stiff. It took her weeks to relearn how to wield her sniper rifle, to correct for the change. It only took her a few minutes to relearn how to pull a trigger.

They'd given her cybernetic implants that enhanced her senses, improved her reflexes, but the shields she'd built around herself were in disrepair. She covered that vulnerability, as she always had, with a dense layer of humour. Miranda and Jacob didn't know her well enough to know the difference, but perhaps no one knew her well enough. 

At Miranda’s suggestion, they travelled to Omega first in order to pick up the professor, Mordin Solus. Shepard liked the salarian, and she deeply respected his decision to run a clinic in a plague zone. She wasn’t much of a healer herself, so she had a great admiration for anyone who was. Plus, she had a fondness for patter songs that she would never admit aloud.

One of the other dossiers was also on Omega, someone named Archangel. According to Aria T’Loak, he was enough of a threat that the three major gangs on Omega were working together in order to take him out.

“He’s either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid,” Miranda commented.

“Those things aren’t mutually exclusive,” Shepard replied.

“Well, aren’t you sweet,” said the mercenary recruiter, leering. “You’re in the wrong place, honey. Strippers’ quarters are that way.”

If Shepard had a penny for every time some asshole harassed her heavily armed and armoured body she’d have enough money to retire, preferably some place with a beach. She was at the end of her rope, and she was tired of being polite.

“Try me, tough guy,” she said, unholstering her pistol and holding it up where he could see it. It was a threat, certainly, but a casual one. The recruiter didn’t seem to pick up on it. A few minutes later, Shepard had enlisted with the Blue Suns, and was turning to leave when she was nearly run over by an over-eager young man carrying the shittiest gun she'd ever seen.

"How old are you, kid?" she asked.

"Old enough," he replied, his voice confrontational. "I know how to fight. Besides, I just spent 50 credits on this pistol and I want to get my money's worth." Shepard recognized the look; she'd seen it often enough in the Reds. 500 credits could look pretty good when you were sleeping on the street. Maybe he wanted to prove that he was more than just another starving orphan on the streets, another charity case. Maybe he had family to look after. Either way, he was going to get himself killed. In one fluid motion, the gun was out of his hands and in Shepard's.

"Hey, that's mine!" he sputtered. Shepard ignored him, examining the firearm. There was a 50/50 chance it would explode in his hands the first time he tried to fire it. Maybe 60/40. She may not know much, but she knew guns. She'd killed a hell of a lot of people with guns.

"Do yourself a favour and go get a refund," she said. She knocked the side of the pistol and there was an eruption of sparks. She handed it back and saw that here was fear in his eyes, now. Good. Fear kept you alive. "Go home, kid."

They travelled in silence to Archangel's hideout. Sure enough, all three major gangs in the Terminus systems were represented, each more eager to kill Archangel than the last. One of the few benefits to being dead two years, she supposed, was that no one recognized her anymore. As a result, she was able to slip through the base, unnoticed. Miranda suggested that they hack into a few of the bigger mechs. As soon as they were activated, they'd start attacking the gang members. It felt wrong, as Shepard did it, but she did it all the same.

She was sent to have a debrief with the Blue Suns' technician. Shepard was given to understand that she and the rest of the humans that had been hired were going to act as cannon fodder. He seemed entirely unconcerned about that. Shepard felt her hands tense.

"You're not going with us?" she asked.

"No, I need to get this gun back up and running," he said coolly, taking a long pull from his cigarette. Shepard's eyes fell on an electric welder just to the side. The welder was in his back before she even knew what was happening. Killing him gave them a better chance of success, and so she acted without thinking. Acted, and brutally killed a man in cold blood. She was still reeling from it when she jumped down into Archangel’s base. She shook herself and pushed it down to address later. Or never. Probably never.

...

Garrus had been holed up in that sniper’s nest for days, and his chances of getting out in anything other than a body bag were looking slim. But damn, if he was going out, he wanted to go out in a blaze of glory. He was going to drag as many mercs as he could down with him, kicking and screaming.

He had settled into a dangerous kind of monotony, his world reduced to the end of his scope. The monotony meant that he almost didn’t register the quick flash of auburn hair before it faded out of view. But he was looking for it, now, and so he saw Shepard appear on the other side of the room, shooting a merc point-blank in the back, and sending a blast of incendiary power into the face of another. 

Shepard was alive. Shepard was here. His odds of survival were looking up.

It was disconcerting how easy it was to fall into banter with a dead woman. The last time he’d talked about Shepard had been her eulogy, and damn if that wasn’t a depressing thought.

“Now correct me if I’m wrong, Vakarian, but this sure as hell doesn’t look like going back to C-Sec,” she said dryly, once the initial introductions had passed.

“I got tired of all the bureaucratic crap on the Citadel, I figured here I could do some good,” he replied, aiming for nonchalance and mostly making it.

“I’m so glad to hear that you really took to heart all our talks about working within the law, then, Garrus. How did you even end up trapped up here?” she asked. He shrugged. 

“It's a long story. Tell you what, I’ll make you a deal; you get me out of here alive, and I’ll tell you the whole damn thing.”

“Of course,” she said, as if it were that simple. As if he’d asked her to pick up something from the store, rather than to fight her way through dozens of mercenaries. She glanced out the window for a moment before turning back to him. 

“So, Archangel huh?” she asked. He could’ve sworn he saw the corners of her lips twitch up slightly, but it may well have been a trick of the light.

“Oh, it’s just a name the locals gave me, for all my, um, good deeds. I don’t mind it, but please it’s, uh, it’s just Garrus to you,” he said, ducking his head. She snorted.

“No big deal,” she said, in a passable impersonation of his voice, minus the subvocals. “I’m a vigilante hero, idolized by the downtrodden people of Omega. But don’t mention it.”

“I never said I was idolized,” he protested.

“What possessed you to come here, of all places?” she asked.

“You left big shoes to fill, Shepard,” he said quietly. The words were out before he could stop them. He heard her breath hitch. She closed her eyes for a moment, and for the first time Garrus noticed the deep shadows underneath them, the new wrinkles on her forehead. When had she slept last? Was she eating enough? Had she always been so pale? For a moment she looked...fragile.

As soon as the moment came, it was gone. Shepard opened her eyes and met his gaze, face unreadable, and he suddenly realized that he’d been staring. He glanced away quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. Shepard unhooked her sniper rifle and moved to take cover by the window.

“Let’s not keep them waiting,” she said, sighting down the length of her barrel. Garrus readily grabbed hold of the topic change, all too eager to avoid the now chilly silence between them. 

“Of course,” he said, “we wouldn’t want to be impolite to the people trying to shoot us.”

“Just like old times,” she said, neatly picking off the mercenaries one by one.

“Just like old times,” he agreed, hitting a thug square between the eyes. “My aim is still better, for one.”

“I seem to recall you nailing me a few times back there.”

“Concussive rounds only, no harm done. Didn’t want the mercs getting suspicious,” he replied innocently.

“Uh huh.”

The two people with Shepard mostly ignored them, focusing on the fight. Garrus made a note of their Cerberus uniform, and filed that away to ask about later. When he wasn’t in immediate danger of being murdered, perhaps.

Once all the enemies had been mowed down, Shepard and the woman with her left to deal with the situation in the basement, leaving the man behind to protect Garrus. He heard Shepard whisper something to them, but he couldn’t quite make out the words.

...

Garrus took a rocket to the side of the face, and Shepard felt the air leave her lungs. She didn’t register the trip that took them back to the Normandy. She found herself in her cabin, covered in blood, eyes glazed and unfocused. Mechanically, hands numb, she cleaned herself up and braided her hair back and away from her face. Unsure what else to do, she wandered down to the debrief room. 

Another person hurt on her watch. Another friend she couldn't save. The universe had a funny sense of humour.

And then Garrus walked in, mostly in one piece.

“Nobody would give me a mirror. How bad is it?” he asked, like it was nothing. Like she hadn’t felt the life leaving his body as he bled out in front of her. _Bastard._

“Hell, Garrus, you were always ugly. Slap a coat of face-paint on there and no one will even notice,” she replied, forcing a smile. He chuckled and then winced.

“Oh don’t make me laugh damn it, my face is barely holding together as it is,” he said.

“And whose fault is that?”

“You know, some women find facial scars attractive. Mind you, most of those women are krogan.” She got the impression that he would have waggled his eyebrows, if he had any.

“Got a thing for krogan, Garrus? I’ll have to let Wrex know,” she laughed, the sound unfamiliar to her ears, uncomfortable on her tongue. 

“Try it, and I’ll launch you into space myself,” said Garrus fervently, and she laughed again. He considered her for a moment, and what she could see of his face grew serious. 

“Frankly I’m more worried about you. Cerberus, Shepard? You remember those sick experiments they were doing?”

And so there it was. Commander Shepard, paragon of humanity. Commander Shepard, who did the job right or not at all. Commander Joan Shepard, who refused to let fear compromise her, was working for Cerberus. She’d lectured Garrus before — repeatedly, and at great length — that the ends never justified the means. What a hypocrite she was. 

“Trust me, anything you’re about to say I’ve already said to myself,” she replied, bracing for the worst. He held up his hands.

“Hey now, I trust you, Shepard. If you say we need to work with Cerberus, then we’ll work with Cerberus,” he said. Oh. _Oh._ Not the response she was expecting. Tears burned at the back of her eyes. _What the hell had Cerberus done to her when they brought her back?_

“And I trust you. Now march your ass back down to the med bay until Dr. Chakwas says you’re ready,” she said, crossing her arms. It was easier, always, to settle back into banter. She could handle banter. She couldn't handle the look in Garrus' eyes, his absolute faith in her. It was too much, suddenly. 

“She said I was clear to leave," Garrus said defensively. If he noticed her discomfort, he didn't say anything. 

“ _Bullshit_. She once made me stay down there for three days with a broken nose. Twenty credits says you snuck out of there while her back was turned.”

“Me? Sneak out? You wound me, Shepard.” But he was struggling not to laugh, holding onto the side of his face.

“So if I buzz the good doctor over the comms she’ll confirm that you’re fully recovered?” Shepard reached for her earpiece as if to call Chakwas. Garrus quickly moved forward, talons closing around her arm.

“It would be a shame to bother her. She’s a very busy woman, you know.”

“Uh huh. Go get some rest, Vakarian. That’s an order.”

"Damn it, Shepard."

"That's 'damn it, Shepard, _ma'am,'_ to you."

He grumbled something indistinct. Shepard looked down pointedly at where he was still holding onto her arm and he let go with exaggerated reluctance. 

"I'm telling you Shepard, you're throwing me to the wolves here."

"Garrus, she's pushing 60."

"Wolves, Shepard."

"I wouldn't have pegged you as a coward, _Archangel_."

"Hmm. Touché."

"Hop to it, soldier."


	3. New Horizons, Old Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Priority: Horizon. In which Shepard is reunited with Ashley Williams, and the world crumbles around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyways bioware are cowards for not letting femshep romance Ash

_Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'_

_We are not now that strength which in old days_

_Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;_

_One equal temper of heroic hearts,_

_Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will_

_To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield._

-Ulysses, Lord Tennyson

Bruised and bloodied from the fight with the Praetorian, Shepard limped over to check that Jack and Garrus had made it out of the fight okay. Garrus had been knocked out at least three times, and Shepard handed him what was left of the medi-gel to deal with some of the more serious wounds. The rest would have to wait till they were back aboard the ship. Her own ribs felt bruised; she'd thrown herself to the ground more than once to avoid the laser. For some godforsaken reason, the thing had insisted on exclusively targeting her. She'd spent at least half the battle cloaked and booking it across the field. She scanned the area for any other signs of threats.

And then a figure walked out of the rubble. A familiar flash of pink and white armour, a no-nonsense bun. Warm relief flooded Shepard; Ash was alive. Her stomach had plummeted when she'd heard that Ash was here, just as a collector attack was happening. Each frozen face she'd passed had ratcheted up her fear, her concern for her friend. If they were still friends.

“Well if it isn't Commander Shepard, back from the dead,” Ash said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. She reached out a hand to Shepard, and Shepard pulled her into her arms, holding her tight.

"I missed you," Shepard said softly.

“I thought you were dead, Shepard. We all did,” Ash said, voice muffled against Shepard’s shoulder.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Shepard replied, her throat burning. “It’s good to see you, Ash.” She felt Ash step away, putting distance between them. She felt the loss like a knife, directly between her bruised ribs.

“Two years and that’s it? Like nothing’s happened?" Ash said. "I would have followed you anywhere, commander. I thought you were gone, I...you were more than our commander.” The hurt in her voice was palpable, the accusation even more so. This was the response that Shepard had expected. She had let them all down. She had encouraged her crew to rely on her, to come to her with their problems. And then, when they needed her most, she was gone.

"I'm sorry, Ash," she said again. What the hell was that going to fix?

"Don't call me that, you don't get to call me that," Ash snapped. Shepard winced. The laser might've been preferable.

Late-night talks in the hold of the SR1, asking about Ash’s sisters, her family. Her word-perfect recitation of Tennyson. Shepard had never been to school, had never had the time to learn poetry. Ash had encouraged her to try. Shepard, tripping over her own tongue as Ash walked her through the words. She'd just been getting the hang of it, when her suit had ruptured.

Ash, pulling her aside to say that _m_ _aybe you should check on Liara, she just lost her mother_. Ash, not afraid to question Shepard's decisions. Those final moments aboard the SR1, when Ash refused to leave her behind. Each memory ricocheted through her like a damn bullet, bitter on her tongue.

 _I would have followed you anywhere, commander._

And Shepard, so broken, so brittle, wondering if this is what it meant to be in love.

Two years dead. Too long.

“Why didn’t you try to contact me? Why didn’t you let me know you were alive?” Ash’s voice cut through Shepard’s reverie.

"I was dead, Ash. I've only been awake a few weeks, and Anderson knew that," Shepard said quietly.

"Anderson would buy it if you said you could walk on water," Ash spat.

"But you wouldn't?"

"As far as I'm concerned, Shepard, what's dead should stay dead." _Oh._ A baseball bat whistling through the air, glass cascading to the ground. Shepard inhaled sharply, like she'd been shot. It would've been kinder, truly, for Ash to put a bullet through her. Physical pain was easy. This was something else entirely. Medi-gel couldn't fix this.

"I...why did you get sent here? I thought the Alliance wasn't able to do anything about the abductions," Shepard said, fighting to make her vocal chords work.

"We got a tip that this colony might be hit next, that Cerberus might be behind it. I wanted to believe that you were alive, but I never expected anything like this," Ash said. "You’ve turned your back on everything we stood for." Shepard’s words, when they came, were a dry, rasping whisper.

“Ash, please,” she said, resenting the desperation in her voice, “you know me. You know I’d only do this for the right reasons. You saw it yourself; the Collectors are targeting human colonies. They’re working with the Reapers. The Alliance can't do anything, but Cerberus can.”

"How do I know that's the truth? Cerberus might be lying to you, Shepard. Maybe they're the ones behind the abductions."

"You saw the Collectors, please, I need you to believe me," Shepard pleaded.

“I’d like to believe you, Shepard. Really, I would. But I can't. Not after what you've done.”

"I'm still me, Ash."

"Don't call me that. For all I know, Cerberus could be controlling you. Who knows that they did to bring you back. Who knows what you are now?"

Shepard's throat closed, and she struggled to breathe. She felt her vision begin to blur. So many tears lately. Not the time, now.

“Damn it, Williams, you’re letting your own feelings cloud your judgement. You’re ignoring the real threat,” said Garrus. His voice dragged Shepard back into her own body. She hadn’t realized she’d left. She cleared her throat, eyes burning. She could taste blood on her tongue, and she wondered if it was hers. 

"Just because you're willing to blindly accept Shepard back with open arms doesn't mean we all are, Vakarian," Ash snapped. Garrus opened his mouth to respond, but Shepard held up a hand. Antagonism wasn't going to bring Ash back. She wondered if anything could.

“Ash, come with me. I could really use your help. It’ll be just like old times,” she said, and it was a plea. A prayer, of sorts.

_"Don't call me Ash."_

"I--"

“Goodbye, Shepard.”

Shepard’s eyes shut of their own accord, unwilling to watch her friend leave. She forced them open again. Now was not the time for regrets, for self-pity. Mourning was a luxury she couldn’t afford, not with so much on the line. She radioed Joker to come pick them up.

“I wonder,” she said to no one in particular, “who sent the Alliance that tip about Cerberus?”

Of course it was the Illusive Man that had sent the tip. Callous bastard. Her skin crawled when she spoke to him, every fibre of her being willing her to leave the ship and leave Cerberus.

"What the hell was that?" she demanded.

"That was the closest we've come to stopping a Collector attack since the abductions began, Shepard," he replied, leaning back in his chair, smoking his cigarette.

"You lured the Collectors there," she said coldly.

"Some sacrifices need to be made."

"Ash could've died," she spat.

"Many more will die if the Collectors aren't stopped. The ends justify the means," he replied, nonchalantly leaning back in his chair.

"You're wrong."

"Your morals are admirable, Shepard, but they are misplaced. Do not question my judgement again." An order? Fuck that. Not on her ship.

"If you wanted a lapdog, you brought back the wrong woman," Shepard snapped.

"Ah. I see your conversation with Operations Chief Williams did not go well," he said, and Shepard stilled.

"That's my business," she said.

"I expect you to set aside your personal issues, Shepard. The mission is too important to be jeopardized," he said.

"Then stop undermining my authority," she hissed.

"Goodbye, Shepard."

She had a few hours before they were scheduled to arrive at Illium. Joan knew she should go talk to her crew, but she was hit with a wave of bone-deep weariness that left her swaying on her feet. So she made her way up to her cabin, and asked EDI not to let anyone in. And then tenderly, reverentially, she moved to her dresser and pulled out the shard of stained glass. She clutched it tight to her chest as her legs gave out beneath her.

Numb, unmoving, she stared at the wall. There was pain there, she knew, but she couldn't feel it yet. The shock was still too new, the hurt too fresh. The pain would come soon enough.

How much could one woman bend before she broke? Shepard didn’t know, or maybe she didn’t want to know. At some point she had become an icon, a figurehead. An idol. There was no room for her anymore in the rigid reputation she’d carved for herself. She was a hero, or she was nothing at all. And now, it seemed, she was nothing at all. The beginnings of a headache beat against her temples. Distantly, she heard herself ask EDI to dim the lights. 

It had been easier, before she died. Easier to push away her feelings and stamp them out. But this new, unfamiliar body kept pushing back. There was nowhere left to hide. The implants that burned through her body were too new, too sharp; a double-edged sword cutting her every way. Her every sense was heightened, improved, but that made the harsh, grating flame of the world that much sharper. She was dancing on the edge of a blade, and dancing had never been her strong suit.

This is what comes of loving too deeply, she thought to herself. Somewhere along the line Shepard had forgotten the cardinal rule of the Tenth Street Reds; the closer people get to you, the harder they can strike. It was time to remember. She could allow herself to trust her crew to have her back, but it ended there. There was no room for love, not here. Not anymore.

She did not cry.


	4. Foils and Follies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Normandy arrives on Illium, and Shepard's new resolve is sorely tested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm in love with Samara. Yes, I will die mad about her armour.

Illium was breathtaking.

Shepard had been raised on the streets of Paris and had caught occasional glimpses of the heart of the city, the glistening city lights. Sometimes she’d sneak out at night, eager to see the architecture and art, to catch the subtle smell of pastries baking. And most of all, to hear the idle chatter and laughter of the high-class citizens that could walk the streets with impunity. To imagine that she was one of them, that she could stroll through the Champs-Élysées arm-in-arm with her friends, laughing. She would stay out for hours, until the sun rose above her and she had to return to the dark and bitter alleys that were her home. Looking over the railing at Illium, Shepard had to fight the urge to run and hide, to find somewhere safe. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the railing of the balcony, forcing herself to remain still. 

“We were always told that Illium was a beacon of civilization. But join the wrong gang, sign the wrong contract, or walk down the wrong street and it’s just as dangerous as anywhere else,” said Garrus, yanking Shepard out of her reverie. She loosened her vice-like grip on the balcony and allowed herself to step back, massaging her hands. 

“Commander Shepard?” came a voice from behind her. Shepard whirled around, still tense. There was an asari standing off to the side, waving her over. 

“How can I help you?” Shepard asked politely, reigning in her racing heart.

“I have a message for you from your friend on Noveria,” said the asari, and her eyes flashed white as she recited to Shepard the words of the Rachni queen. She assured Shepard that she had done the universe a great service in saving the queen, in saving the Rachni from extinction. It was nice, Shepard realized, to be reassured. It wasn’t something she was accustomed to. She thanked the asari, and meant it. After a few more questions she turned to head for Liara’s office, feeling lighter than she had in days.

“You never meet anyone normal, do you Shepard?” Kasumi observed. Shepard felt the corners of her lips twitch up, ever so slightly. 

“You don’t know the half of it,” she said. 

“You can say that again,” Garrus agreed fervently. Shepard did smile, then, as she climbed the stairs up to the office. 

Setting foot over the threshold, she felt the wind get knocked out of her. There was Liara, looking as if she hadn’t aged a day. But it wasn’t her familiar, feather-light voice that Shepard heard. 

“Have you faced an Asari commando unit before? Few humans have. I’ll make it simple: either you pay me, or I flay you alive. With my mind.”

Liara, who had always been so kind and so gentle, was threatening a man with the words her mother had spoken before trying to tear Shepard apart. Matriarch Benezia, who had begged to be killed, begged to be saved from herself and from Saren. 

A day ago that might have ripped through Shepard like a bullet, tearing her apart at the seams. She couldn’t afford that sentimentality anymore. The cost was too high. 

Two years dead. Too long.

In the two years Shepard had been gone, Liara had become an information broker, proficient in blackmail and in ruthless efficiency. She played the game, and she played it well. Shepard almost couldn’t recognize her friend. She squashed that feeling down deep and asked Liara for information about the people she was there to recruit; the assassin and the justicar. 

“And if there’s anything I can do to help you, Liara, all you need to do is ask,” she added as she rose to leave.

“Actually, Shepard, there is something. If you could access some of the terminals around Illium and send me the data, I would be in your debt.”

Shepard nodded distantly. She suspected that it wasn’t going to be strictly legal, but that small, unacknowledged part of her that was still plagued with guilt for abandoning her friends wouldn’t let her say no. Not when Liara was looking at her with her familiar stranger’s eyes. 

“Of course,” said Joan.

Shepard remembered Nassana Dantius from the Citadel. She’d been a piece of work then, and apparently the years hadn’t improved her. The sight of the bloodied salarian workers filled Shepard with a barely controlled rage, simmering just below the surface. But she kept it in check, lowering her voice to soothe the workers and handing out bandages and medi-gel.

“I’ve cleared out the lower levels, it should be safe for you to get out that way,” she said gently. The workers thanked her and left as quickly as their legs allowed. 

“Why don’t we just chuck the medi-gel out the window, while we’re at it,” Jack complained. Shepard shook her head, checking the corridor ahead for mercs.

“They need it more than we do, Jack,” she explained.

“Bullshit, that scaley asshole you brought with us keeps getting knocked out,” Jack replied. Garrus looked affronted. 

“They’re not scales, they’re plates,” he retorted.

“Oh, pardon me: the walking dishware keeps getting _knocked the fuck out_ ,” Jack shot back.

Are you going to let her talk to me like that, Shepard?” Garrus asked.

“What’s the matter, tough guy, can’t fight your battles yourself? Gotta go cry to the boss, huh?” Jack taunted. She and Garrus bickered back and forth and Shepard heaved a sigh.

“Tell me, have you two ever heard of something called a stealth mission?” Shepard asked, exhaustion threaded through her voice.

“ _You kids stop whining, or I’ll turn this mission around,_ ” Jack said, mimicking Shepard’s voice. Against her better judgement, Shepard snorted. 

“You kids stop whining, or next time I’m bringing Kasumi and Zaeed,” she promised. “At least they know how to keep quiet.” Garrus and Jack both opened their mouths to protest, but she held up a hand to quiet them. Satisfied that the coast was clear, she signaled for them to move through the door up ahead. The room was filled with a window that reached from floor to ceiling, the nighttime lights of Illium shining in the distance. An Eclipse merc was facing the window, speaking over the comm to someone. Shepard moved with a cat-like grace, seemingly blending into the shadows, until she was immediately behind the merc. Her pistol pushed gently against the back of his head. He stiffened and swore softly.

“You’re going to be very quiet, and answer a few of my questions,” she said conversationally. 

“Go to hell,” he spat back.

“Not the answer I was looking for. Try again,” she said, tone still casual, as if she had asked him about the weather. She pressed the gun into his head a little bit more firmly.

The Eclipse merc scoffed at her, and told her his men were in the next room.

“Shoot me and they’ll be on you in a minute,” he said. So cocky, so sure. Shepard’s eyes flickered to the wide window looming high over the merc. It would be so easy to just push him through. Satisfying, even. It wouldn’t even need that much effort, and the guards next door wouldn’t hear it. And she was so very tired of being insulted. Her hands tensed. She forced herself to relax. She was better than this.

“Is this really worth dying over?” she asked instead. “Is Nassana?” The Eclipse merc was silent, considering his options. His eyes flicked from the gun pointed at him to the two heavily armed individuals behind Shepard. 

“No, I suppose not,” he said eventually. 

“Smart man. Now tell me what I need to know.”

Thane Krios wasn’t what she had expected. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but it wasn’t this quiet, collected man praying for his soul over the body of Nassana Dantius. Then again, Shepard hadn’t met many assassins, so perhaps they were all like this.

“You protected the workers,” she said once he’d finished praying. “Why?”

“Why did you?” he returned. Her eyebrows raised of their own accord.

“It was the right thing to do,” she said.

“Precisely.” His back was to her, his attention fixed on the window in front of, watching the sun slowly dip below the horizon. Silence hung in the air expectantly. Shepard tried again.

“I’m on a mission to defeat the Collectors,” she said. “They’re killing entire human colonies. I could use someone with your abilities.” Now he turned to her, and Shepard felt like her soul was being stripped bare and examined. She met his gaze, unflinching. 

“I am dying,” he told her. “This was to be my last mission.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied. “I didn’t know.” The last of the light slipped away.

“I would like to put some good in this world before I leave it,” he said, looking at her with those large, odd eyes, and he offered his hand. She shook it. “I will join your cause, Shepard. No charge.”

“Thank you,” she said, and left it at that.

There was another dossier on Illium, for an asari named Samara. Reportedly, she was a justicar; an ancient order of asari governed by a strict code of morals. Her mission had taken her to a murder scene, and so when Shepard arrived she sought out the head detective, Anaya.

"I'm looking for a justicar," Shepard said.

"What's she done now?" Anaya asked immediately.

"Nothing, to my knowledge. I want to recruit her," Shepard said. Anaya exhaled slowly.

"Sorry. I'm a little jumpy at the moment."

"Anything I can help with?" Shepard asked.

"Well, if you could get the justicar out of my precinct, you'd be doing me a hell of a favour. My supervisors have asked me to take her into custody." Anaya rubbed at her temples, her brow furrowed.

"I can't imagine she'd be too happy about that," Garrus commented.

"Ah, well, it's actually against the justicar code to be arrested. She'd have to kill me. So, a little jumpy," Anaya said. Shepard felt the sudden, irrepressible desire to throttle Anaya’s superiors.

“Don’t follow that order,” she said. “It’s suicide.”

“We can refuse suicidal orders? Nobody told me,” Garrus piped up.

“That’s about twice a day for us,” Thane agreed.

"You both volunteered for this mission," Shepard said dryly. Thane had just joined up yesterday, and already he was talking back? Her crew must be a worse influence than she'd thought. She turned back to Anaya. "Let me help you." It wasn’t a question.

Shepard, Thane, and Garrus moved through the back alleys of Illium silently. Well, as silently as possible while engaged in a firefight with the resident gangs. It was much tighter quarters than Shepard preferred to fight in, but she made do as best she could. 

It was turning out to be a day of defying expectations. Shepard had envisioned the justicar as a wise old matriarch, probably in sensible, plain armour worn down from centuries of battle. And so when the justicar descended from above, pure biotics made flesh, clad in a blood-red and filigreed skin-tight suit, Joan’s brain short-circuited for a moment, her mouth dry. She watched, wordless, as the asari killed a Sisterhood Initiate with a twist of her impossibly high heels. Finally, she turned to face Shepard.

“I see three well-armed people before me,” she said. “Are you friend or foe?”

“Friend, I hope,” Shepard replied. “I’m Commander Shepard. I need your aid with my mission to fight the Collectors.” The justicar — Samara — tilted her head to the side.

“I sense the truth in your words, and I am humbled,” she said. "But I have my own mission that I must complete."

"Let me help," Shepard said immediately.

"You do not even know what the mission is yet."

"Then what is the mission?"

"I seek a fugitive that these mercenaries smuggled onto a ship.”

“I wish you’d go with the human, justicar,” said Detective Anaya, coming up behind them. Samara did not take her eyes off of Shepard, and for the second time in as many days Joan felt herself being examined with a fine-tooth comb. She wondered what the justicar saw there. Then again, perhaps she didn’t want to know. 

“Very well,” Samara said at last, turning her attention to the detective. “The Code allows me to remain with you for 24 hours.”

“That’s not enough time,” Anaya said, voice steady. 

“I know,” said Samara. There was regret there, and loss.

Shepard brought Thane and Garrus into a nest of Eclipse mercs. Their earlier comments about suicidal orders buzzed around her head like flies as they moved through the base. It never got easier, watching her crew fall. She felt her heart stop every time, despite her best efforts to harden herself to it. Even the deaths of her enemies struck her, each one an endless tally on the ledger of her heart, stacked against her. Death followed every step she took.

And so when she opened a door and found an Eclipse merc, terrified, desperate to escape, she couldn’t bear to kill her. She let her go with a warning, and her battered soul felt a little lighter. 

Of course the one woman that she allowed to escape was the murderer that Detective Anaya was looking for. Just once, thought Shepard, it would be nice if her conscience didn’t come back to bite her in the ass. Not for the first time, she wondered if her morality was a flaw. It would be easier, so much easier, to feel nothing at all. To follow the instincts that her childhood had drilled into her, rather than the ideals that she aspired to. A thought for another time. There were still mercs to kill, and a mission to complete.

She returned to Anaya’s office an hour later, her armour splattered with Eclipse blood and toxic chemicals. She told Samara the name of the ship that carried the criminal she sought, the Ardat-Yakshi. Samara stepped down, moving to stand in front of Shepard. She inclined her head.

“I must be sworn to your service, so that I am never forced to choose between your orders and the Code,” she said, and knelt down until her head almost touched the floor. “By the Code, I will serve you, Shepard. Your choices are my choices, your morals are my morals. Your wishes are my code.” Her eyes glowed white and she shimmered a brilliant blue.

Shepard wondered if this was what holiness looked like. The weight on her shoulders suddenly felt unbearable.

“I’m honoured,” she said. “I won’t let you down.” Perhaps, if she said it enough, she’d believe it. 


	5. Dying Suns, Burning Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dossier: Tali

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emotionally stunted protagonists, get your emotionally stunted protagonists here.

When humanity joined the galactic community, they realized that many of the truths they had previously considered universal were false; the sky was not always blue, water was not always wet, gravity was up for debate. However, there are some things that remained true no matter what planet you happened to be on. One of them was that Shepard couldn’t be trusted to drive anything bigger than a scooter. Another was that turians had an aversion to the cold. Well, at least Garrus did. He certainly said it often enough, in case anyone forgot. Nominally, he’d taken up residence in the main battery so that he could work on improving the Normany’s weapons, but in truth it was because it was the warmest spot on the ship. 

He was in the middle of calibrating the system when he heard the door open behind him, Shepard’s familiar footfalls echoing down the hallway.

“Settling in alright down here, Garrus?” she asked.

“It could use some work, but it’s got potential,” the turian replied, not looking up. 

“Hey, this is state of the art technology,” she said.

“For humans, maybe.” Mandibles didn’t allow for a shit-eating grin, and so his face ended up in a grimace. Shepard arched an eyebrow at him. Damn humans and their expressive features, the most turians could spring for was moving their mandibles a little bit. It made conveying tone difficult, especially to non-turians. 

“I suppose you think you could do better, then?” Shepard asked. 

“Blindfolded, and with my hands tied behind my back.”

“Garrus, what you get up to in your spare time is your own business,” she drawled. He laughed and turned back to the control board. Shepard smiled a little, and then leaned against the wall, arms crossed. A comfortable silence fell between them, but there was an undercurrent of tension. Garrus could feel her eyes drilling a hole in his head.

“I know I’m roguishly handsome, Shepard, but you could be a little more subtle about staring,” he joked.

“Are you ready to tell me how you ended up trapped on Omega?” she asked. Well, shit. 

“I trusted the wrong person,” he said, hoping she’d let the matter drop. She didn’t press him for more information, just kept looking at him with those wide, brown eyes. Before he could stop himself, he was telling her his failures, how he hadn’t been enough, how he had let men die on his watch. The tangled words tumbled out of him, ripping him apart as they left. Shepard didn’t interrupt, and her face stayed blank, unreadable. But there was something in her eyes that he couldn’t quite place. Something sharp. 

“When I find Sidonis,” he finished, “I’ll kill him myself.” 

“Is that really what you want?” she asked, like he’d known she would. Of course she would. It was Dr. Saleon all over again. But he couldn’t let it go, not this time. Not even for her. 

“Ten good men died because of him, because I trusted him,” he said, and there was that damn emotion again. Get it together, Garrus. He wasn’t about to start blubbering like a kid, not now. He’d just tuck those feelings down deep, and address them never. 

“Do you think it’s your fault that your team died?” she asked, voice pitched low. _Mayday, mayday, abort mission. Get the hell out of there, Vakarian._

“They were my men, Shepard. I let them down,” he said instead. She studied him for a moment, and he felt like one of Mordin’s experiments, trapped underneath an unforgiving microscope. Like he was being stripped bare and dissected. He opened his mouth to say something, anything. A joke maybe, anything to stop her from looking at him like that; like she was seeing through him. Damn it, had she always been this hard to read? 

“Well, let me know if you find him,” she said eventually, and then left. Garrus let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. It wasn’t until much later that he realized that she hadn’t actually agreed to help him kill Sidonis. Damn it. 

...

Just once, Shepard thought wryly, it would be nice if she could recruit someone to her cause without having to get shot at repeatedly in the process. Why were there never any talented warriors having a picnic at the local park, waiting for someone to come along and recruit them for a suicide mission? Regrettably, if such people existed they likely didn’t want to spend their time wading through husks and geth and unsavoury mercenary bands. And so instead Shepard found herself dashing across Haestrom, doing her best not to get fried by the sun, in order to find Tali’Zorah. 

Commander Shepard to the rescue, as always. Tali’s escort was overrun by geth, and as a cherry on top of the cake, the path to Tali was covered by a toppled pillar. Wiping blood and machine oil off of her face, Shepard went off in search of explosives. In Shepard’s veritable and varied combat experience, there were very few problems that couldn’t be fixed with a liberal helping of dynamite. 

Geth weren’t necessarily at the top of Shepard’s ‘Favourite Enemies to Fight’ list, but there were definitely benefits to fighting synthetics. She had picked up an A.I. hacking ability a few missions ago, and watching her enemies shoot at one another made for a delightful change of pace. Bullets whistled past her, but blessedly none of them were whistling _at_ her. She hacked a geth hunter and took cover behind a crate, taking a moment to catch her breath.

There was a sudden spray of metal as ammunition rained down above her. Shit. Apparently the hack didn’t last as long as she’d thought. She glanced furtively around the crate she was hiding behind. The geth hunter she’d hacked was barrelling towards her, phasing in and out of view. She couldn’t get a fix on it in order to hack it again. Turning back into cover, she saw reinforcements appearing behind her, closing in on Thane and Garrus. _Shit._

“Company incoming, boys,” she said into her comm.

“You never take us anywhere nice, Shepard,” Garrus replied.

“This? This is a stroll through the park compared to your damn rescue mission,” she said. 

“Three merc bands too much for you, Shepard? Sounds like you’re getting old,” he said, deadpan. Shepard barked a laugh, struggling to get a clear line of sight on the hunter. She aimed a hack at a nearby geth and allowed herself a small, grim smile when it opened fire on the hunter, revealing its location. _Ah hah, there you are, you bastard._ She sighted down the barrel of her gun and caught the hunter square in the centre of its face.

She risked a glance back and saw that Garrus and Thane were pinned down by a geth prime, the machine hitting them with a constant barrage of ammo. She slipped into her tactical cloak and broke cover, moving to a less exposed position, up on one of the nearby platforms. She hauled out her trusty Incisor rifle and took a moment to aim. 

“Looks like you could use some help, Vakarian,” she mused. 

“Who, me? I could handle this in my sleep,” Garrus replied. “Watch and learn, Shepard.” He popped his head out of cover and aimed a shot at the geth prime. Before he could get a clear angle he was met with another barrage of heavy fire. He ducked back down, his armour slightly singed and smoking. 

“What he meant to say is that we would indeed appreciate assistance, commander,” said Thane.

“Watch and learn, boys,” said Shepard, and nailed the geth prime with three precise shots to the head. It crumbled to the ground, the light in its face sparking out. Shepard scanned the area for more geth, but it looked like they were clear for the moment. 

“It was already mostly dead,” grumbled Garrus. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Shepard replied. She heard Garrus mutter something unflattering under his breath and she smiled wryly. She jumped down to the ground and went to pick up the first detonator.

The second detonator was easier to get to. Almost, as they would say in low-budget action films, too easy. Shepard picked up the detonator from the dilapidated building and then carefully peered outside. Ah, there was the other shoe; the exit was blocked by a huge contingent of geth, with more pouring in from either side. Shepard cursed softly and ran to cover through the scorching sun. The geth rained down bullets from a walkway above, making most of the nearby cover unviable. Shepard ended up behind one of the taller pillars, pulling out the Incisor and picking off the snipers on the balcony.

“If you two could start firing, I sure would appreciate it,” she said. 

“What’s the matter, Shepard? Getting tired? Arthritis acting up?” Garrus fired back. He was crouched behind a crate, dangerously close to where the shield-destroying sun was beating down. 

“One more crack about my age and I’ll knock you into next Tuesday, Vakarian,” she said calmly, hacking one of the geth. It turned on its allies and opened fire. Ah, that never got old. 

“Is that a challenge, commander?” Garrus asked.

“Oh, it wouldn’t be much of a challenge for me,” she said, breaking cover to dash across the plaza. She dove into cover just as a combat drone came charging towards her. A well-placed shot from Garrus brought the drone crashing to the ground.

“You’re on, Shepard,” he said.

Shepard had really hoped that the worst of the fighting was behind them, but fate had a habit of disappointing her expectations. She crouched behind a barricade as Kal’Reegar, the sole surviving member of Tali’s escort, told her that the pathway was blocked by a Colossus that could repair itself. Because of course it was.

“Any suggestions?” she asked. 

“Just one; I still have a few grenades left, and my legs are still working. I go down there and distract those assholes, and you and your team sneak through and take down the Colossus,” he said. “If I’m going down, I’m going down swinging.” 

“Not an option,” said Shepard, her voice clipped.

“Respectfully, ma’am, I wasn’t asking,” he said, rising to stand. Shepard yanked him back down, that now-familiar rage bubbling to the surface.

“I said no, soldier. We don’t have enough fighters left for you to martyr yourself for the cause. I need you to stay here in case they send reinforcements,” she hissed through gritted teeth. Lecturing someone on self-sacrifice. Oh, if there were gods up there they certainly had a sense of humour. 

“I’ll take the Colossus,” she continued. “Lay down some cover for me.”

“Understood,” he said.

“Stay alive. That’s an order,” she said, and vaulted over the wall.

Shepard would never admit it out loud, but seeing Tali, alive and unharmed, felt like coming home. But love was too dangerous to allow, and so she pushed that comfort aside, burying it down deep. After all, by the time her emotions finally became too loud to ignore, she’d probably be dead. Again. 

She embraced her friend, and smiled, and it never quite reached her eyes. 

"You okay?" she asked.

"I've had better days," Tali said wryly.

"I hear that. Got everything you needed here? Not that I have anything against the place, but it's not exactly welcoming."

"I've finished my work for this project. I'm all too happy to leave," Tali said. Shepard nodded.

"Any chance I can interest you in a lift? Maybe on a permanent basis?" she asked.

"As far as I'm concerned, I've done everything I need to. And if the Admiralty Board has anything to say about that, they can shove it." A genuine smile graced Shepard's face. She gently clapped her friend on the shoulder.

"It's good to have you back, Tali," she said.

"It's good to be back, Shepard."

“Too scared to fight me, Shepard?” Garrus taunted. He had cornered her in the med bay after they’d returned from Haestrom. Dr. Chakwas was studiously ignoring the both of them. 

“I’m leaving for Tuchanka in an hour, I don’t have time to hand your ass to you,” she said, scouring the cupboards for any medi-gel, to no avail.

“There’s always time for my ass,” he replied.

“If you’re looking to annoy me to death, Vakarian, it’s working.”

“Getting cranky in your old age, huh?”

“That’s it,” she said, “if I come back in one piece, I’ll schedule in some time to wipe the floor with you.”

“You’d better come back in one piece then.” He said it casually, but there was something jarring in his voice, now; it rang discordant in Shepard’s ears. The room was too small, pressing in on her. 

“No promises,” she said, and left. 


	6. Reckonings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grunt: Rite of Passage, and Mordin: Old Blood

“Shepard, my friend!” Wrex very nearly pulled her arm off from shaking her hand so vigorously.

“Good to see you, Wrex,” she said, massaging her knuckles.

“I heard you were dead. Benefits of a redundant nervous system, huh?”

“Humans don’t have those, Wrex.”

“Huh. Must’ve hurt, then.”

“Like a bitch, yeah.”

“Well, you’re alive now. That’s what matters,” he said, clapping her on the back. Shepard winced. That was going to bruise.

"You're in charge now?" she asked.

"Someone had to do it. Learned that from the best," he said wryly.

"Delighted to hear it," Shepard said. "And while we're on the subject, I could use your help."

"Whatever you need, Shepard," Wrex said.

"One of my crew has been experiencing violent tendencies. Well, more so than usual," Shepard explained. She motioned for Grunt to step forward. Wrex studied Grunt, his brow furrowed.

"What clan are you?" he asked. "You bear no markings."

"I am of no clan," Grunt said. "I was built by the Warlord Okeer, bred to be the perfect krogan."

"I see," Wrex said thoughtfully. He turned to Shepard. "There's nothing wrong with him, he's just growing into adulthood. He'll need to undergo the Rite."

One of the krogan that stood near the throne stepped forward threateningly.

“A tankbred cannot complete the rite! This is unacceptable," he snapped.

"I don't believe I asked you, Gatatog Uvenk," Wrex said sharply. Uvenk spat on the ground and left abruptly. Wrex turned back to Shepard and Grunt. "You'll need to speak to the shaman."

"Thanks, Wrex."

"And Shepard? Watch your back."

"Always do, Wrex," she said. She led Grunt to the shaman, and was unsurprised to see that Uvenk had gotten there first.

"He doesn’t even have a krantt to stand with him,” he shouted. Shepard looked at the shaman, raising an eyebrow.

"A krantt is someone from your clan to fight with you," he explained.

"The tankbred is an abomination and an insult to Tuchanka," Uvenk spat. Well, only one thing for it. Shepard headbutted Uvenk into the wall, getting a nasty gash to her forehead and a minor concussion in the process. Worth it. Nobody talked shit about her squad.

“I will stand with Grunt,” she said through gritted teeth, “he’s a member of my crew.”

“It is not the same thing, but I will allow it. Let us begin,” said the shaman, as Uvenk grumbled in the background.

It was just Shepard's luck that the final fight of the rite was a thresher maw. God, she hated those things, with their weird pointy mouths and their acid spit. Very few things really got to Shepard, but thresher maws gave her both the heebies and the jeebies. It hadn’t been so bad the last time she had fought one; she'd been snug in the belly of a heavily armoured military vehicle, complete with a rocket launcher. Standing in the middle of an open arena being hit by acid wasn't exactly her idea of a good time.

She missed the Mako. Not the unwieldy controls and the temperamental jets, nor the haphazard firing system and impossible to see through windows. No, what she missed about the Mako was the freedom; she could go anywhere she wanted, at her own pace, protected by a thick layer of metal. She didn’t need to worry about becoming trapped, because there were very few walls that could survive the Mako’s firepower. It felt like a home to her, even if she did occasionally end up flipped upside down like a turtle on its back. Plus, it meant she didn’t have to fight on foot.

Shepard was drawn back into the present as the pillar she was standing behind exploded around her. She saw Grunt to her left, excitement barely contained, hurling insults at the thresher maw, because of course he was. It looked as though the rock he’d chosen to hide behind was immune to the acid spit, so she broke free of cover and dashed over, getting slightly singed in the process. Ah, her kingdom for an all-terrain, military-grade vehicle. 

After what felt like years, the maw finally fell, and Shepard, Grunt, and Mordin were left standing in a slightly smoking arena, littered with the corpses of their foes. Grunt had never looked so delighted. It was a disconcerting look, on a krogan. Their faces were not bred for joy, and so it was really just threatening.

And then, because it never rains but it pours, a shuttle appeared above them and landed nearby.

“We have company. Good, I wanted more,” said Grunt.

“Really, Grunt? Thresher maw not enough for you?” Shepard asked wryly. Whatever Grunt might have said was interrupted by Uvenk stepping into the arena. Shepard smiled grimly, all teeth.

“You live, and you brought down the thresher maw. No one has done that in generations. Urdnot Wrex was the last,” he said. 

“My krantt gave me strength beyond my genes. Which are damned good,” Grunt replied. Uvenk continued on with some nonsense about purity and construction which Shepard mostly tuned out. And then:

“You are a mistake, but your potential could tip the current balance of the clans,” Uvenk said, and Shepard’s fists tensed of their own accord. Apparently, her headbutt had been too gentle. She opened her mouth to speak, but Grunt beat her to it.

“You spit on my father’s name. On Shepard’s name. But now you stop ranting because I’m strong?” he demanded. Unconsciously, Shepard moved to stand between the two krogan. 

“With restrictions. You could not breed, of course. Or serve on an alien ship. But you’d be clan in name,” Uvenk continued, ignoring Grunt. 

“Grunt isn’t some trophy for your wall. You just want his power, you don’t really want him for your clan,” said Shepard, her voice clipped, her jaw clenched.

“Of course not. I didn’t want to cooperate with clan Urdnot, either. Clan Gatatog is on the verge — either of greatness or of joining the dust.”

“Then eat dirt, asshole,” Shepard replied.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Grunt agreed, and headbutted the nearest krogan. Nothing quite like finishing a life or death battle with another one immediately afterwards. Her kingdom for an armoured vehicle, truly.

“You will need to choose a battlemaster,” said Wrex. 

“Shepard is my battlemaster, she has no match,” said Grunt, and there weren’t words to express what that meant to her. And so she kept her mouth shut, and nodded.

The next stop was to rescue Mordin's old assistant, Maelin. It was soul-shattering, wandering the halls of that abandoned hospital with Mordin, the corpses of krogan scattered around them, discarded. So desperate for a cure to the genophage that they submitted themselves to torture, to unimaginable pain. All so that one day the genophage might end. Shepard’s heart ached, and she said things to Mordin that she couldn’t take back, ugly words and accusations. 

“All projections pointed to total extinction if krogan expansion allowed to continue unchecked. Genocide or genophage,” Mordin said, but his eyes were riveted on the broken body of the female krogan in front of him. “It was a bloodless solution, only affected fertility rate.”

“Nothing’s ever bloodless,” she said, and her voice echoed through the empty corridors. “Let’s go.”

There shouldn’t be a difference between killing a charging enemy and killing a friend. One soul is not heavier than another, each one just another tally on an already blackened ledger. There shouldn’t be a difference, but there is. And so when Mordin drew his pistol on Maelin, Shepard held him back. Because the truth is that killing a friend can destroy you, completely and utterly, until you’re barely a person at all. She heard the ringing gunshot of Saren killing Nihlus, the voice of Kaidan telling her to get back to the ship. Stained glass shattered on the floor.

“You're not a murderer, Mordin,” she said, as if they hadn't fought and killed dozens of people on their way here. As if those deaths didn't matter, didn't count.

“Yes. Not a murderer,” he said, and he holstered his pistol.

“I suggest you get out of here, Maelin,” Shepard said, gesturing towards the exit. He didn't need to be told twice. As the door closed behind him, Mordin moved towards the large screen in the centre of the room.

A cure for the genophage. The methods were horrific, the experiments gruesome, but so was what had happened to the krogan, those long years ago. Wrex had almost fought her on Virmire for the chance to find a cure. She'd almost had to kill another friend. Another tally mark on an irrevocably blackened ledger. She felt a headache gathering, a rhythmic pulse against her temples.

“Maelin's research terrible, should erase it. But useful. If ever to find cure, would be better than starting from scratch,” Mordin said thoughtfully. Shepard stared up at the screen, blinding, bright.

“Save the data,” she said.   
  


Arriving back on the Normandy was a welcome respite. She felt hopelessly tangled, twisted up into knots. She started towards her cabin, ready to sleep for the next two days.

“Commander, the Illusive Man wishes to speak with you in the briefing room,” said EDI, her voice echoing across the ship.

 _Damn it._ “Thanks EDI, I'll head right there.”


	7. Heavenly Bodies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blowing off steam, but with an actual fist-fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Garrus can have a little pining, as a treat.

“That bastard sent us into a trap,” hissed Shepard, as she battled her way through the Collectors. Blood poured down on her from every side, drowning her. She saw Thane and Garrus fall, again and again, and she felt the screams clawing at her throat. With every door that closed in their faces she felt the hallways shrink, until she could barely move. But when they finally made it back to the Normandy, her eyes were steel, her voice iron, unyielding. She was like ice as she calmly told the Illusive Man that if he put her crew in harm's way again, she would kill him.

In the days after the Collector vessel mission, the crew walked on eggshells around Shepard. Her normally kind and considerate demeanour was replaced with ice-cold anger. She didn’t yell at them, wasn’t violent, but her barely controlled rage sparked in her eyes and lingered on her tongue. When Shepard was laughing and joking with the crew, it was easy to forget that she had killed tens of thousands of people. Now, when she stalked through the hallways, the crew ducked out of her way, avoiding her eyes. 

All the carefully controlled emotions that Shepard had fostered went out like a light. She was angry at herself, more than anything. For falling for such an obvious trap, for putting her people in danger. The frightened looks on her crew’s faces were her punishment to herself. And so she continued to storm her way through the ship, and forced herself not to look away when the others flinched. 

...

Garrus was worried. He didn’t know very much about human physiology, but he knew Shepard should be getting more food and sleep than she currently was. She hadn’t spoken more than two words to anyone in days, and he had a sneaking suspicion that if he were to look at her palms he’d find small, red half-crescents.

Shepard needed an outlet, something to aim her aggression towards. Garrus figured he was as good a target as any. 

He found her in the small workout room on the third level, beating the ever-loving shit out of a punching bag, her long red hair braided back and away from her face. Hit after hit collided heavily with the punching bag, until with one final roundhouse kick she knocked it free from the ceiling and sent it flying into the wall. Garrus’ mandibles flared, his brain warning him that this was the worst idea he’d ever had.

“What did the exercise equipment ever do to you?” he asked, and had to duck quickly as she whirled around to strike, her hands in an offensive position. 

“Go away, Vakarian,” she said, her voice flat. 

“I believe you said you’d schedule in some time for me to wipe the floor with you,” he replied. The corners of her mouth twitched, but there was no humour in the look that she gave him.

“Not right now,” she said, and he had the sudden, inescapable impression of a caged animal, teeth bared.

“Scared, Shepard?” he asked. And then he froze, because she was suddenly a hairsbreadth away from him, her breath fanning across his face. Up close, he realized that her face was covered in a scattering of tiny dark patches. They looked like stars.

“You should leave,” she said. She was right, he should leave. He didn’t move.

“Make me,” he suggested. Her answering grin bordered on feral, filling Garrus with a deeply rooted sense of unease. Still, he was reasonably confident that he could take Shepard in a fight. After all, he'd been one of the top ranked hand-to-hand fighters on his old ship. Shepard was tough, yes. Terrifying, sure. Capable of rending him limb from limb, maybe. But she'd never been one for melee fighting. He could handle this. 

“Last chance, Vakarian.”

“Shut up and hit me, Shepard,” he said. She laughed, but the sound was jagged, harsh. 

The first few swings were just to test the water, to feel each other out. Garrus easily batted away her attacks. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. And then she caught him with a swift uppercut to the face, and now he really was seeing stars. Ah. Fuck. He hadn't accounted for the cybernetic implants. It was like being smacked with a sack of bricks. He sunk back into a defensive position, evaluating his options.

The turian military and C-Sec had a very strict set of guidelines for tactical engagement, and a lot of it hinged on rules, stratagem, and restrictions. As a result, Garrus’ fighting was measured, controlled. But Shepard had been raised on the gospel of the Tenth Street Reds: hit 'em low and hit ‘em fast, and kick 'em while they're down. She fought with reckless, desperate abandon, and she fought dirty. It was an effective strategy for short fights, but as Garrus continued to evade her attacks, he noticed her wearing down, her arms just a hair too slow to block his attacks, her breath growing more laboured.

“Give up yet, Shepard?”

“Not even close.” She swept a leg under him, toppling him to the ground. But she hadn't accounted for the spikes on the backs of his legs, and so she came down on top of him, knocking the breath out of his body. She sat up, her legs still tangled up with his, and brought an elbow hurtling down towards his face. He quickly jerked his head to the side, and her elbow collided with the ground, hard. She gasped with pain and he took advantage of her temporary distraction to flip them over. He grabbed both of her hands and pinned them up above her head. 

And was suddenly, horribly aware of exactly how much of her was pressing up against him. She must have seen the consternation on his face, because she took it as an invitation to flip him onto his back, hauling herself upright and bringing her right leg up to rest against his neck, gently threatening to cut off his air supply. Not that he could breathe at the moment, regardless.

“Do you yield, Vakarian?” she asked, and the artificial light cascaded around her like a halo. She looked like an avenging angel, Old Testament. Garrus almost choked on his tongue.

“That depends,” he said breathlessly, “are you going to keep terrorizing the crew? Poor Kelly almost passed out when you glared at her.”

Shepard shut her eyes, all the fight leaving her body. Garrus felt like he was seeing her for the first time, from the pale, twisting scars that decorated her skin, to those tiny, dark pinpricks that seemingly peppered her whole body, from her shoulders to her stomach. He fought to tear his eyes away, staring up at the ceiling instead. _Snap out of it, Vakarian, what the hell is wrong with you?_ Shepard carefully extricated herself and stood up, offering a hand to him, which he took. 

“No more terrorizing, you have my word,” she said. “And Garrus?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“Any time,” he said. She left, then, in the name of going to get herself cleaned up. Good idea, he thought. He was going to need a very long, very cold shower. Hopefully, if he ignored it, this would pass soon enough. Besides, he wasn't even genetically built to be attracted to humans. This was probably just a fluke. 

A few hours and one extremely cold shower later, Garrus went to wish Shepard good luck before she left for her mission with Kasumi. He got as far as the bridge before he decided to pack it in and talk to her later. 

The shining black fabric of her dress reflected and refracted the light in a dizzying array of colours, and it was cut in a figure that emphasized every part of Shepard that Garrus was desperately trying to forget existed. With an abrupt about turn, he marched back down to the main battery. Calibrations, firing algorithms, he could handle those things. With a sinking heart, he realized that he very much wanted to handle Shepard instead.

He'd always noticed the way the others looked at her, the blatant admiration, and he hadn’t understood it. Back on the SR1, she hadn’t really been a person to him. Wait, that sounded bad. It was just that she'd always been too bright to touch, too high to reach, somehow separate from everyone else. And she was human, anathema to turian sensibilities of beauty. But here he was, standing in the suddenly too-hot main battery, thinking about how her hair had smelled like cinnamon and cloves. _Shit._

This was wrong, she was his commanding officer. More than that, she was his best, maybe only friend. He couldn't risk losing that, not when he'd only just gotten her back. And besides, she was stretched thin enough as it was, she didn’t need this added onto her plate. It was better this way, he assured himself. He'd always been good at self-denial.


	8. Arrivals, Departures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DLC: Arrival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Arrival DLC is a blight upon this earth. I spent the five hours screaming at my computer, and I would genuinely rather chuck myself off of a cliff rather than play it again. Let me know in the comments which part of this mission sucked your soul away, for me it was having a countdown clock on the final fight. I literally cannot believe I spent money on this.

_From the rubble, what do I see?_   
_There's a whole damn army thinkin' that they're gonna harm me_   
_Say goodnight, I'll never get free_   
_Oh, I got troubles that won't let me be_   
_But I won't get tired, set the town on fire_   
_'Till my troubles got trouble with me_

_-_ Bury Me Face Down, grandson

It never rains but it pours, Shepard thought to herself, soaked to the skin as she crept through the batarian prison in search of Dr. Kenson. She didn’t mind the rain, really. There was something familiar, almost comforting, about the chill sinking into her bones. The roof of the church had always been riddled with holes, with stolen buckets littering the ground to catch the rain. The cool touch of rainwater falling on her face had always grounded her, lulling her to sleep. 

The voices of two guards drifted through the mist, and so she quietly ducked from cover to cover, flitting through the night, seamlessly avoiding detection. She'd always had a gift for silence. Kasumi frequently remarked that Shepard would have been the perfect thief if she didn’t insist on being such a stick in the mud.

It was a moonless night, lit sporadically by the lights attached to the prison complex. The ground was littered with stray crates, bins, and other Shepard-sized cover. It was as though the universe was sculpting the perfect stealth mission, just for her. She hauled herself up onto a nearby platform to get a better view of the area. She spotted a set of stairs leading into the largest of the buildings. Bingo. It was almost too easy, but she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Shepard looked over her shoulder to make sure Garrus was at her six, but then she remembered that this was a solo mission. There was no one there to back her up, only the constant hum of rain hitting rooftops. She shook her head to clear it and jumped off of the platform, landing soundlessly. She headed towards the stairs, keeping an ear out for any more guards. 

She'd thought it would be a good idea to go on a solo mission, to give her some breathing room after her recent behaviour. She was regretting that, now. Even amongst the shadows, she felt horribly exposed without someone watching her back. It was an uncomfortable feeling, this reliance on other people. She pushed it aside for the moment. Something to deal with later. 

She moved through the building silently, flickering through the corridors like a ghost. She held her breath for a few moments as she crept past more guards, but their attention was focused on something across the room. It really was just too easy. Damn it.

After a few minutes, she found Dr. Kenson. The two of them only made it a few steps before things began to go wrong. They ended up in a room riddled with cover, with entrances on every side. A small voice that sounded suspiciously like Garrus and Zaeed pointed out how hopelessly indefensible it was. And there was Shepard, tasked with defending Dr. Kenson while the doctor coordinated their exit. 

Shepard held off wave after wave of batarian fighters so that Kenson could work unimpeded. There was a fallen pillar directly outside the door where Kenson was working, and so Shepard set up her base there, taking stock of her options. They weren’t looking great, honestly; she was low on thermal clips, she had no backup, and her survival depended on her ability to keep Kenson alive. She glanced up to check the progress of her enemies.

A gunshot hissed past her ear and she ducked down behind her makeshift barricade, casting around for thermal clips. She tugged the pin out of a grenade with her teeth and lobbed the explosive over the barricade in the direction of a group of guards. Her eyes alighted on a handful of thermal clips to her left and she darted over to grab them. She was greeted with a spray of gunfire, clipping her in her right thigh. White-hot pain ripped through her, and she inhaled sharply. She dragged herself back behind the barricade, haphazardly pouring medi-gel onto the wound. The medi-gel dampened the pain, until it was just another dull ache. 

“Shepard, they’re coming in from that elevator, go close it off!” yelled Kenson. Shepard violently bit down her retort.

“Understood. I’m on it,” she said instead, the taste of copper hot on her tongue. She rose to her feet unsteadily and faded into invisibility. She moved forward, half running, half limping, until she reached the elevator. She slipped behind a crate just as her tactical cloak wore away. A half dozen batarians pushed their way out of the elevator in a cluster. That’s right boys, she thought grimly, stay there in a group for me. She lined up an incendiary blast, followed by another grenade. Anyone that didn’t fall immediately was knocked down by a few well-placed shots. She felt a bullet bite deep into her left shoulder, pain ricocheting through her. Ah. Apparently reinforcements had arrived behind her. She activated her cloak, switched off the elevator, and then booked it back to Kenson as quickly as she could, running through lines of enemies. She ducked behind a wall next to Kenson.

“Update?” she asked. Hands shaking, she tore apart a medi-gel to apply to her shoulder. 

“I’m ready. Let’s go,” said Kenson. Shepard offered up a small prayer of thanks to anyone that was listening, and she and the doctor headed to the shuttle bay, mowing down batarians in their wake. Through the red clouding her vision, Shepard thought that the shuttle was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. And then she saw that the batarians had manually locked the hangar doors.

“You’ll need to break the locks!” shouted Kenson. Before Shepard could move, they were promptly greeted by another contingent of batarians. It never rains but it fucking pours, Shepard thought to herself as she hauled out her gun and opened fire. So much death for one rescue mission. Kenson had better be worth it. 

Shepard managed to shoot off the locks keeping the hangar bay doors locked, and she and Kenson booked it into the shuttle with only a few additional injuries. On the trip back to the research base, Dr. Kenson told Shepard about her research. She said that she and her crew had found a Reaper artifact, Project Rho. During the course of their research, they had discovered that the Reapers were coming in a handful of days.

The research facility was eerily quiet, although Shepard couldn't quite place her finger on why. Perhaps it was the way the scientists stopped talking as she moved near, the silence hanging heavily around them. Perhaps it was the hollow look in their eyes. It reminded Shepard of something, and she racked her brain trying to remember what. She glanced up again at the clock counting down to the Reaper arrival. Two days, and a handful of hours. She followed Kenson’s directions towards the elevator at the end of the main corridor, passing more unnerving scientists. 

As the elevator doors clanged shut, Shepard realized what was wrong; two days to stop the Reapers, and no one in the facility was moving. There was no frantic nervous energy. If anything, they looked expectant. Eager, even. And their eyes, oh, their eyes stared back at her like Saren, like Benezia. They were indoctrinated, and the Reapers were coming. 

When she arrived at the bottom of the elevator, Shepard steeled herself; a lot more people were going to die by her hand before the day was done. She opened the doors and came face to face with the end of Dr. Kenson’s pistol.

“Is this how you thank someone for rescuing you?” Shepard's voice was polite, casual. The indoctrination glowed bright in Kenson’s face, and Shepard berated herself for not noticing it earlier.

“They are coming, Commander Shepard. Their arrival cannot be stopped.” Kenson cocked her pistol. In one fluid motion, the gun was out of her hand, skittering across the linoleum floor. Unblinking, Shepard snapped her wrist, and a sickening crack reverberated through the air. Kenson bent double with pain and limped away. Shepard hauled out her Locust. The centre of the room was filled with the Reaper artifact, and it whispered to Shepard.

 **“Why bother fighting, commander? You know you’re going to lose,”** it said, its voice worming into her brain. Shepard barked a laugh.

“That the best you can do?” she said derisively. 

**“We have barely begun,”** the artifact replied.

“Put up or shut up,” she suggested. 

**“You will see,”** it said, and the room began to fill with soldiers. Shepard opened fire. 

The YMIR Mech was the final straw. Was it not enough that she’d single-handedly fought off four rounds of foes? Did she really have to fight a damn mech at the same time? She ended up trapped behind an overturned desk, with soldiers cutting off her exit points. The mech advanced on her, inexorable as the clock ticking down to the arrival. Shepard slipped into her tactical cloak and vaulted over the desk. But her leg, her damn leg, gave out beneath her as she booked it across the room. She went down, and the world faded to black. 

When she awoke, she could’ve sworn that she was lying on the cold, hard operating table of Project Lazarus again. There was a searing pain throughout her body, and she felt like she was burning alive from the inside out, her hair plastered to her forehead. She brushed the pain aside for the moment. Where was she? Alarms were blaring all around her, but that was a fairly common occurrence for Shepard. 

“Shepard’s awake!” someone shouted. “The sedatives aren’t working!” Hmm, also fairly common. The pieces clicked back into place, and she remembered Kenson, the facility, the battle. That explained the pain; she must’ve been shot at least a half dozen times. She hauled herself off of the operating table, pushing her hair away from her face. The door was locked, but there was a LOKI Mech in the next room, just waiting to be controlled. Beauty. She piloted the mech through the corridors, directing it to unlock the door to the lab. Once she was out, she stopped to grab her armour and weapons. The cool touch of her armour was like a balm on her feverish skin.

There was a clock directly above the locker they’d stashed her armour in, and with a sinking heart she saw that there was little more than an hour and a half to stop the Reaper invasion. Fuck. She swept her unruly hair into a bun and set off in search of Kenson. She fought her way through the facility, wincing each time she had to gun down another scientist. They hadn’t been made for fighting, it wasn’t their fault that they’d been indoctrinated. They’d been given bad orders. But she shot them, one by one, until the walls were bathed in blood. Finally, she found the control panel for the project.

“Completing the project will destroy the mass relay in this system, resulting in the deaths of 300,000 batarians,” said the disembodied voice of the computer. Shepard felt her legs give out, but she remained upright. 

“Warn them,” she said, but it was too late. She was too late to save them. She couldn’t let herself be too late to stop the Reapers. The computer placidly told her that she would need to manually restart the project. She dragged herself through the facility, fighting to get to the controls. All the while, the clock ticked down.

When Shepard managed to activate the manual controls, Kenson’s voice popped up over the comms, telling Shepard that it was too late. Gritting her teeth, Shepard continued to carve her way through the facility until finally, finally she found Kenson standing over the control panel of the main reactor.

“Step away, Kenson,” Shepard said, her gun levelled at the doctor’s head.

“They are coming, Shepard. I’m only sorry I won’t be able to see it,” said Dr. Kenson, and there was a maniacal gleam to her eyes. She held a small detonator in her hands. She was going to blow the main reactor, stopping the project from being completed. Shepard felt her finger twitch over the trigger of her pistol, inviting her, encouraging her to shoot the woman in front of her. Kenson was inviting the Reapers to destroy the universe. She needed to die, deserved to die. Shepard didn’t have a choice.

There’s always a choice. Shepard pointed her gun at the ground. 

“Kenson, you don’t have to do this.”

“You’re too late,” Kenson promised, and she activated the detonator. The resulting explosion tore her to pieces, and once again Shepard’s vision went dark.

When she woke up, the clock above her told her that she only had half an hour left before the Reapers were set to arrive. She followed the directions of the station computer, dragging her bruised and broken body through the facility, until finally she reached the outside controls. She checked her watch: 6 minutes left. She was almost in a trance as she fought her way through the remaining enemies, until at last she reached the panel. The next thing she remembered was waking up in the med bay, every part of her body screaming at her.

300,000 batarians dead. Nothing she could do to stop it. She hauled herself upright, and asked Dr. Chakwas to help her write a report for Admiral Hackett. The final words of her account were barely out of her mouth before her vision faded to black again. When she next woke, it was to Admiral Hackett himself asking if she was alright. She hauled herself upright and somehow managed to stand. She straightened to her full height, ignoring the stiffness in her shoulders, and saluted him. He returned the gesture, his face serious.

“I sent you in for a rescue mission, commander, and the next thing I hear a whole system has been destroyed. The batarians are calling for your blood,” Hackett said. “What the hell happened out there?” Shepard winced.

“It’s all in my report, sir,” she said, her voice little more than a rasping whisper. “When my mission is complete, if I’m still alive, I’ll turn myself in for a trial.” 

Hackett nodded. “Don’t get me wrong, commander, I know you did what you had to. If it were up to me you’d be getting a damn medal.”

“With respect, sir, I wouldn’t accept it,” she replied. He considered her thoughtfully for a moment. 

“When the time comes for that trial, I’ll make sure it’s a fair one,” he said at last.

“Thank you, sir.”

“I don’t agree with Cerberus, but they’re doing what needs to be done. You’re doing good work, Shepard.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Hackett offered her his hand, and she shook it. He nodded again, once, and then left. Once the door had closed behind him, Shepard fell to her knees, grief hitting her like a truck. 300,000 families, friends, and lovers piled heavily onto her aching shoulders. Distantly, she could hear racking sobs tearing through the air. It was a few minutes before she realized that the sounds were coming from her. Eventually, Dr. Chakwas came back into the med bay and gently helped her back onto one of the beds, and gave her something to help her sleep. 


	9. Anathema

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus: Eye for an Eye.
> 
> Anathema: someone or something intensely disliked or loathed; a vigorous denunciation or curse; a formal excommunication. In the original Greek: a thing devoted, or an offering. In the Old Testament: either revered objects or objects representing destruction brought about in the name of the Lord, such as the weapons of an enemy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I've done this mission justice, I've been so dang stressed about it

Garrus tried to help Shepard as best he could, in the days before and following the Kenson mission. He sparred with her nearly every day, with each adapting to the others fighting style. Garrus had always been a quick study, but fighting Shepard was like nothing he’d ever experienced, like a tempest distilled. Every blow was lighting fast, an electric shock to his system. It certainly didn’t help that he found himself wanting to touch her in another, very different context. More often than not, he’d concede defeat and flee, his tail between his legs. If she noticed, she didn’t say anything. 

It was odd, this thing between them. Their friendship had changed, and Shepard was changing along with it. She laughed more easily, without the grimace that had once accompanied it. She ate her dinner down in the mess hall, rather than alone in her cabin. And she became a fixture in the main battery, asking Garrus for his advice, for his opinions. Garrus felt like he was talking a delicate tightrope between friendly and intimate, each foot forward an invitation for failure. For the moment, thought, he was content to spend what time he could with Shepard, even if that generally ended with him covered in bruises.

Despite his new, confusing feelings, there was no one in the galaxy he trusted more than Shepard. And so when he finally caught word that someone on the Citadel might have a lead on Sidonis, he sent a message to her private terminal without hesitation. A few minutes after he sent the message, he could hear Shepard’s familiar footfalls echoing down the hallway. Once the door had closed behind her, Garrus launched into his explanation, tripping over his words in his haste. Shepard held up her hands, a small smile on her lips. 

“Slow down, Garrus, what’s going on?” she asked. He took a breath and tried again. 

“I’ve got a lead, Shepard,” he told her, and her smile slipped away. “There’s someone on the Citadel called Fade that helps people disappear. Word is he may have helped Sidonis.”

“I’ll set a course for the Citadel,” she said, no hesitation. The relief that Garrus felt was instantaneous.

“Thanks, Shepard. I...this means a lot,” he said.

“Of course,” she replied. She was quiet for a moment, her eyebrows knitting together, a human expression he didn’t fully understand. “Are you still planning to kill Sidonis?”

“Yes,” he said. “I have to, I don’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice.” Her face was unreadable. Garrus studied her, looking for any sign of condemnation, approval, anything. Anything was better than the blank mask staring back at him. 

“Not this time, Shepard,” he said. She opened her mouth to reply, but no words appeared. Instead, she turned on her heel and left, leaving Garrus conflicted, adrift. But then, she always had that effect on him, even back on the SR1. She was a tempest, and they were all just following in her wake.

Garrus remembered Harkin from his days in C-Sec. Apparently, “Fade” was the pseudonym that he’d picked up, that pretentious asshole. He’d always been a thorn in Garrus’ side, and age hadn’t improved him. He was still the same rotten human, but now he was actively aiding and abetting criminals. It made Garrus’ blood boil. Once he’d gotten the information from Harkin, he’d be all too happy to put him out of business. Permanently. 

His hands shook slightly as he reloaded his sniper rifle. He was so close to avenging his men, he could taste victory. A few more hours and he could finally lay them to rest. Nothing was going to stand in his way now. The thought kept his aim steady as they carved their way through Harkin’s forces. 

After about half an hour, they reached a control room with an open window. They crouched down, and Garrus took a moment to survey the next room. It wasn’t promising. The room had plenty of cover, sure, but the platforms scattered around the room meant that there was ample opportunity for their enemies to pin them down. His eyes scanned the room, looking for somewhere to shoot from. Hmmm, if he could just set up over _there_ he’d have no trouble picking them off. He was distracted from his planning by the soft sound of Shepard clearing her throat.

“Are you sure you want to kill Sidonis?” she asked. He glanced down at her briefly before looking away. Spirits, he wished she would just drop it.

“I know you don’t agree with me, Shepard, but please let me have this. I need to kill him. It will be painless, more than he deserves. This is my choice, and it’ll be on my conscience,” he said. She didn’t reply, motioning for him to lead the way.

His predictions turned out to be correct, and enemy gunfire hailed down on them from above. Garrus and Thane bided their time, methodically sniping the mercs one by one, as Shepard hacked the mechs and turned them against one another. The first few waves were no trouble, but as they got closer to Harkin, Garrus caught sight of two YMIR mechs dropping from the ceiling.

“Company incoming,” he warned over the comms. He heard Shepard swear under her breath. He ducked behind cover and aimed an overload at the closer of the two mechs. He saw Thane slip over to a higher platform, aiming his own sniper down at the mech. They slowly wore it down until it finally fell, exploding into pieces, the shrapnel dealing a huge amount of damage to the other mech. Nice. 

Once the mechs were down, it was a short trip up to the control room where Harkin was hiding. Shepard and Thane headed for the left side of the room while Garrus slipped away to the right.

“Sorry, Shepard, not fast enough,” he heard Harkin say. The door in front of Garrus opened and Harkin ran through, colliding with Garrus. The look of surprise on Harkin’s face was something Garrus would treasure for years to come. Garrus grabbed him by the collar and slammed him bodily into the wall, resting his arm against Harkin’s windpipe. 

“I’m looking for an old friend,” Garrus said. It was conversational, but the edges were razor sharp.

“Garrus, he can’t respond like that,” said Shepard, coming up beside him. Garrus reluctantly let go, but he didn’t move away, in case Harkin tried to make a break for it.

“You’ll need to be more specific,” Harkin spat, massaging his throat.

“Turian, named Sidonis,” Garrus’ voice was clipped, harsh. 

“Giving away client information is bad for business,” Harkin said. In a blur of movement, Garrus had Harkin pinned to the ground, his foot pressing into the human’s throat.

“You know what else is bad for business? A broken neck,” Garrus said, and pushed down. He felt a gentle tug on his arm, feather-light. He turned to look at Shepard, and she shook her head. With great difficulty, he managed to step back far enough to let Harkin stand. Harkin stood up and dusted himself off. 

“Looks like we both have something the other one wants,” said Harkin, a cocky smirk firmly fixed in place. Of course he’d try to make a deal. He was just as slimy as Garrus remembered from his C-Sec days. Guys like Harkin were the reason the system was broken, the reason the bad guys were allowed to get away. And now here he was, just another obstacle in Garrus’ way. He’d be doing the world a damn favour if he got rid of Harkin.

“We’re not looking to bargain,” said Shepard, her voice level. Damn it, how could she be so calm at a time like this? She moved to place herself between Garrus and Harkin.

“I got that impression,” Harkin replied. Garrus cocked his pistol pointedly. Harkin held up his hands and moved towards his message terminal. As he set up a meeting with Sidonis, Garrus made a show of cleaning his gun, the safety off. Shepard’s eyes tracked his every move, but she remained silent. When he was finished, Harkin turned around.

“What happens now?” he asked. Garrus moved forward, pressing the barrel of his gun to Harkin’s temple. The other man blanched. 

“You’re a criminal now, Harkin. Why should I let you go?” Garrus said, his voice low.

“Gonna kill me, Garrus? That’s not your style,” Harkin said, but fear threaded through his voice. Good. He should be scared. Garrus stared Harkin down, daring him to run away, to give Garrus an excuse to put him down. He’d be doing the world a favour. But Harkin didn’t move, and Garrus couldn’t pull the trigger, not with Shepard behind him, watching him with those warm brown eyes. _Damn it._

“Maybe not, but I can slow you down,” he said casually, and pointed his gun at Harkin’s kneecaps. Shepard’s hands were on his arm in an instant, forcing him to point the gun at the ceiling. Keeping one hand on his arm, she used the other to turn his face towards her. 

“He can’t escape C-Sec now, Garrus. That’s enough,” she said. 

“Is that an order?” he asked. Spirits, his voice was hoarse.

“Does it have to be?” she asked in return. Her hand on his face was warm, grounding. He resisted the urge to lean into her touch, and shrugged off her hold. 

“Fine,” he said. As she turned to go, he viciously headbutted Harkin, and was rewarded with the satisfying crack of a nose breaking. 

To say that the ride to meet Sidonis was tense would rank as one of the greatest understatements in history. Garrus’ eyes were focused on driving, so mercifully he had an excuse not to look at Shepard. He braced himself for a lecture, for accusations. They didn’t come. 

“This just isn’t like you, Garrus,” she said, and somehow that was worse than if she’d yelled at him. 

“What do you want from me, Shepard?” he asked softly, hairline cracks in his facade. He pretended not to notice her wince. 

“I understand it’s hard, but there has to be another way,” she replied.

“I’m not you, Shepard,” he said, and the words were calculated to sting. He wanted it to hurt her, wanted her to feel some semblance of the turmoil that he felt. Two years she’d been gone, and suddenly here she was again with her morals and her ideals. He’d wanted to be like her, once, but that part of him had died along with her. He couldn’t keep pace with a saint.

But oh, spirits, she needed to stop looking at him like that. It had been easier when her face was blank. The pain in her eyes was way above his pay grade, and he felt a twinge of guilt for lashing out. Blessedly, they had arrived at their destination. Garrus clambered out of the car as soon as they landed, putting space between himself and Shepard. He scouted around for a good spot to fire from, and his eyes landed on a clear space just to the right of them.

“I’ll be over there,” he told Shepard, not turning around. “Just keep him talking. I’ll let you know when to move.”

He heard her leave, making her way downstairs. Garrus settled down with his rifle, sighting down the barrel of his gun. He followed Shepard’s movements, until he finally caught sight of Sidonis. His mandibles flared as he stared down the barrel of the gun at the person who had ruined his life. Justice had come at last. He felt lighter than air, the weight of his guilt lifting from his shoulders.

“That’s him,” he said over the comm. 

“Copy that,” Shepard replied, and moved towards the turian. Garrus heard her start to talk, but the roaring in his ears drowned out the words. He could see the faces of his men hovering around Sidonis, could hear their voices whispering in his ears. He lined up his shot. It was time.

“Alright Shepard, I’ve got him. Move out of the way,” he said. 

She didn’t move. Why wasn’t she moving? _What the hell was she playing at?_

...

“I’m the only thing standing between you and a bullet in the head,” Shepard said, placing herself directly in Garrus’ shot. 

“Shit. I...they threatened me. I didn’t have a choice,” said Sidonis.

“There’s always a choice,” Garrus said, and Shepard winced at his echo of her words. 

_What do you want from me, Shepard?_ The words still jangled around in her head, gnawing away at her. She saw an emaciated young girl, flickering through the streets of Paris. Learning so young, too young, how to take a life. Joan couldn’t save her from the terrible burden that the years would bring. But she could save Garrus. She hadn't been there to protect him from Sidonis’ betrayal, but she was there now, and that had to count for something.

His face had frightened her, as he threatened Harkin, his foot crushing the life out of the man. For a moment, she couldn’t recognize her friend. He was blank, cold. She wondered, briefly, if that’s what the others saw when they looked at her.

 _I’m not you, Shepard._ And that was the point, really. Shepard was past redemption, but Garrus wasn’t. Garrus was still worth saving. She hadn’t fought tooth and nail to spare Dr. Saleon just to let Sidonis die. Not on her watch. And so she placed herself directly in Garrus’ sights, and she refused to move out of the way. If he tried to shoot Sidonis, she’d be caught in the blast. She suspected that he’d hate her for this. She wouldn’t blame him, if he did. But she couldn’t let that stop her. 

...

Garrus felt the world unravel around him as Sidonis confessed to the suffering his betrayal had caused, the terrible pain he lived with daily. Garrus cursed Shepard with every word he knew, her and her damn moral code. 

“I can’t sleep, I barely eat. I see their faces staring back at me, accusing me,” Sidonis said, his voice broken. It would’ve been so much easier to shoot him. Garrus wished he’d shot him. But Sidonis’ words hit home, and Garrus saw flashes of the friend he had once had. His finger loosened on the trigger. 

“You gotta let this go, Garrus. He’s suffering enough,” Shepard said, like he’d known she would.

“He still has his life,” he spit out, but the words left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Look at him, Garrus. He’s not alive, not really.” Did she always have to be right? Would it kill her to be wrong, just once? Damn it. _Damn it._ The weight of his guilt slammed back onto his shoulders, leaving him reeling. The faces of his men faded from view, until all he could see was the red of her hair, blocking his shot. 

“Just...just tell him to go, Shepard, before I change my mind,” he said. She nodded imperceptibly, still in his sightlines.

“He’s giving you your life, Sidonis. Don’t waste it,” he heard her say. Sidonis nodded vigorously. 

“I’ll find some way to make this right, Garrus. I promise,” he said, as if his promises meant anything. As if anything could make this right. Ten good men lay in unmarked graves, and now they’d never know peace. Some archangel he was. He could hear Shepard coming up the stairs. He knew that she was going to say she was proud of him, that he’d done the right thing. He wanted to hate her for this, but he couldn’t. 

“I know you want to talk about this, Shepard, but not right now,” he said. 

“Alright,” she said. Garrus resented the tears that he felt prickling at the back of his eyes. Spirits, when was the last time he’d cried? Probably Shepard’s funeral. It was too much to take.

“I couldn’t shoot him. I wanted to, but when he was in my sights I just couldn’t do it,” he admitted, his voice breaking. Shepard nodded.

“It’s hard to tell right from wrong with people we care about,” she said.

“Black and white was easier. Grey...I don’t know what to do with grey,” he said, and he left before she could respond. 


	10. Rhapsodic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thane: Sins of the Father. Shepard recalls her past, and Thane tries to save his son's future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did somebody say....lore?? Backstory??? Narrative foils??????

For the rest of her days, Shepard would never forget the pain on Garrus’ face when she stopped him from killing Sidonis. He looked so lost, so betrayed, his eyes glazed and unfocused. The sight of his retreating form burned itself into her retinas, and she saw it whenever she shut her eyes. She suspected he would never forgive her, and the thought was like acid, scorching through her.

It is a well-documented fact that when the human body undergoes great stress, the mind returns to the past, to the Good Old Days, because it’s easier than coping with the present. And so when Garrus turned his back on Shepard, she found herself remembering Earth. It wasn’t exactly the good old days, but there were a handful of things worth holding onto. Well, perhaps only one thing.

When Shepard was 15, a young slip of a girl had joined up with the Reds. She was small for her age, fragile. No one knew how she ended up on the streets, but that was hardly unusual; everyone in the Reds had a sob story. It was better not to ask. She was even reluctant to share her name. Once, Shepard had spent a sunny afternoon just guessing names until she landed on the right one: Marie. That was the first time Shepard had ever seen her smile, the first time she’d heard her delicate laugh, like windchimes in the summer breeze.

Her memories were jumbled, growing dimmer with each passing year. Calloused hands reverentially brushing jet-black, pin-straight hair. Enthusiastically inventing stories, acting out the different characters with increasingly outlandish accents, worth it to be rewarded with that windchime laugh. Waking up to the sound of racking sobs, and gently rocking the girl back to sleep.

Shepard had originally joined the Reds because there was safety in numbers, but by the time she was 15 she had hit her growth spurt, and she needed little in the way of protection. She could’ve easily left at that point, perhaps to join another gang or to try and make it on her own. She stayed because of Marie. 

Over the course of the three years before she turned 18, Shepard let Marie live with her in the old church, setting her up in the warmest, driest corner. Blanket merchants around Paris noticed a sudden uptick in thefts, as Joan built a nest for the child she’d taken under her wing. 

Shepard knew that she wouldn’t be able to protect Marie forever, and so she trained her, taught her every trick in the book. In a rasping voice, she showed the girl how to dodge, how to use her attacker’s size against them. She showed her how to walk softly, how to fade into the shadows. She showed her every bolthole and hiding spot in the slums, and she drilled them into her. And when the time came for Shepard to leave, just before the baseball bat came whistling through the air, she showed Marie one last spot; the place to wait for her.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back,” Joan had said, “it might be weeks, maybe months, but I’ll come for you, alright?”

“I understand,” Marie had said. Shepard had gathered her into her arms and held her tight. And then the baseball bat, glass shattering, and Shepard had left. 

She had half of every one of her paychecks dropped off at that spot, each with a voice note for Marie. But it wasn’t until she met Captain Anderson during her N7 training that she was able to get Marie offworld. It was Anderson who first offered to help her find a place for Marie, a small apartment on the Citadel. It wasn’t much, but it was a home. 

Marie wasn’t the same child Shepard had left behind. A coldness had taken root in her deep brown eyes. Her voice, when she spoke, was harsh. Shepard blamed herself for it, as she did with most things. But Marie had survived, she was alive. That was all that mattered, in the end. 

When Shepard returned from the dead, two years too late, the first person she had visited was Marie. She’d apologized until her voice was raw, salt tears staining her cheeks. Tenderly, Marie had gathered her up into her arms and held her tight, humming softly, brushing her fingers through Shepard’s hair. Shepard had never known her parents, had never had a biological family. She didn’t expect to live to have kids of her own. Hell, she barely expected to live to see her next birthday. Marie was all she had, and that was enough.

And so it was hardly surprising, really, that when Thane asked her to help his son, Shepard agreed.

“I had a family, once. I still have a son. His name is Kolyat. I haven’t seen him in a very long time,” he’d told her in that odd, croaking voice.

“Did something happen to them?” she’d asked. 

“I abandoned them,” he’d said, and there was self-recrimination laced through every word, like poison on an assassin’s blade. “Oh, not all at once. Nothing dramatic. No sneaking out in the night. No final argument, or slammed door. I just...did my job. I hunted and killed across the galaxy. “Away on business,” my wife would tell people. I was always away on business.”

Shepard had waited for a moment, nodding her head for him to continue. He had looked away.

“When my wife departed from her body I-- attended to that issue. I left Kolyat in the care of his aunts and uncles. I have not seen him or talked to him since.”

“Why didn’t you take him with you?” Shepard had asked. As if she had any right.

“My body is blessed with the skills to take life. The hanar honed them in me. I have few others. I didn’t want that life for Kolyat. I had hoped that he would find his own way, even if he hated me.”

“What changed?”

“Something happened that should not have. He knows where I’ve been, what I’ve done. I do not know his reasons, but he has taken a job as a hit man at the Citadel. I would like your help to stop him, he is...this is not the path he should walk.”

“We’ll help him,” she’d said. 

That had been a few days ago, before Garrus’ mission. Now, she and Thane stood in silence as Garrus walked away. Now, the never-ending babble of the Citadel felt oddly quiet as they headed down the stairs to Bailey’s office. Shepard missed the good old days, when trips through the Citadel meant Wrex telling everyone else that Shepard could kick their ass. Ah, Wrex would say she was getting sentimental in her old age, she thought wryly. Without warning, the image of Garrus turning his back on her flashed in front of her eyes. She winced, and her knees went weak.

“Are you alright, Shepard?” Thane asked. She waved away his concern.

“There’s no need to worry, I’ll be fine for the mission,” she said. 

“I was asking as a friend,” he said. She smiled weakly.

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. He looked unconvinced, but mercifully he let the matter drop. Their conversation with Captain Bailey led them to Mouse, one of Thane’s former contacts and a street kid. Duct rats, Bailey had called them, because they crawled through the ducts of the Citadel. Occasionally, they didn’t crawl back out. No one seemed to care. The more things change, Shepard thought. 

Thane and Shepard silently approached Mouse, as only two highly trained stealth specialists could. They were inches away before he realized they were there, and when he finally clued in he just about jumped out of his skin. 

“Shit! Krios, you’re alive? And Commander Shepard?? Oh fuck, am I in trouble?” he asked, and his eyes darted to and fro so fast they threatened to pop out of his head.

“Peace, Mouse. You can change your pants in a moment,” said Thane, putting a conciliatory hand on his shoulder. “We are looking for a young drell, named Kolyat.”

“Uh, well, there was a drell here a couple days ago, looking for a job,” Mouse replied, fidgeting nervously. 

“Who hired him?” asked Thane. 

“You don’t know these people, Krios,” Mouse said. “They’re dangerous.”

“They won’t hear your name from us,” Shepard replied, her voice pitched low. “You have my word.”

Mouse looked conflicted, but to his credit he didn’t look as pants-shittingly frightened as he had a few minutes ago. He glanced around to check if anyone was listening to them, before leaning in close.

“Elias Kelham,” he said. 

Kelham, as it turned out, was a huge asshole. He was confident that the law couldn’t touch him, that enough money in the right pocket could make even the straightest cop turn a blind eye on his crimes. It was almost too easy to convince him that they were willing to bribe him for the information and then send him on his merry way. It only took a few minutes of interrogation to get the name they needed.

“The hit’s on a turian politician, Joram Talid,” said Kelham. “Now let me out of here.”

“Thank you,” Shepard replied, and turned to leave.

“Hey, I said let me out!”

“Oh, I heard you. Enjoy prison.”

“You...you set me up!” Kelham pulled at his restraints, his face growing red. Shepard shrugged nonchalantly and headed for the door. As she exited, she heard Kelham calling after her.

“Who sold me out?” he demanded. Shepard turned around and arched an eyebrow.

“I suppose that’s something for you to think about while you’re inside, isn’t it?” she replied dryly. Kelham’s frustrated shouting was something she would treasure for years to come. She and Thane thanked Bailey for his help, asked him to tail them, and then headed off in search of Talid. They eventually found him speaking with some voters. They stayed a few feet back, each adept at blending in with the crowd.

“What’s the plan?” Shepard asked Thane. 

“Tail Talid from the catwalks,” he said.

“Where will you be?”

“The darkest corner, with the best view,” he replied, and in the blink of an eye, he was gone. Shepard headed up to the catwalks, and followed Talid and his bodyguard, carefully keeping Thane apprised of their location. It wasn’t a particularly difficult job; for years, Shepard’s sniping skills had left her saddled with most of the reconnaissance missions. She was accustomed to tracking her enemies from above. As a result, she didn’t pay much attention to her surroundings, her eyes pinned to her target.

“Hey, who are you?” asked the young man in the room she’d just entered. _Shit_. No one was supposed to be up here, and she really needed to keep moving. She clenched her fist. One punch and he’d be out like a light. But he was just some unarmed worker, and human at that. He probably couldn’t afford a hefty medical bill.

“Emergency inspection,” she said, forcing her jaw to loosen.

“But—” he began. Shepard held up a hand, brusquely cutting him off. 

“Listen, kid, no one can get up here without clearance. You don’t want to get in trouble, do you?”

“No ma’am,” he said, and hastily moved out of the way. Shepard pushed past him, and was immediately greeted with the sight of Kolyat pulling a gun on Talid. _Shitshitshit._

“Thane!” she yelled, and vaulted over the balcony, landing lightly on the ground.

“I see him!” Thane came running down the corridor, and together they burst into Talid’s apartment, with Bailey close behind them. Kolyat loomed over Talid, his gun pointing at the turian’s head. Talid slid to the ground. For one horrible moment, Shepard thought that they were too late. But then she saw Talid’s chest rise and fall, and she exhaled heavily.

“Kolyat,” Thane said. His son laughed harshly, the sound grating. 

“Is this some kind of joke? Now? Now you show up?”

“Kolyat, your father is dying,” Shepard interjected. 

“So, what? You’re looking for forgiveness? You’re a little late for that,” Kolyat said. He waved his gun away from Talid, and Shepard seized her opportunity, shooting a lamp behind him. The sound of shattering glass made Kolyat turn around, and in a moment his gun was in Shepard’s hands.

“Get out of here, Talid,” Shepard said quietly, moving back. She didn’t need to tell him twice. As the turian bolted out of the room, Thane moved towards his son, holding out his hands.

“I have taken many bad things out of this world, Kolyat. You are the only good thing I ever put in it,” he said, and his voice was so tender, so gentle, Shepard thought her jaded heart might break. 

“This isn’t a conversation to have in front of strangers,” Bailey said gruffly, and he motioned for Kolyat and Thane to leave. Together, they travelled back to C-Sec. While Thane and Kolyat spoke privately, Shepard went to talk to Bailey.

“Thank you for all your help, really,” she said. He squinted up at her.

“Where I’m from, anytime someone genuinely thanks you, it means they’re about to ask for something else,” he said suspiciously. Shepard placed her hands on his desk, leaning forward.

“He’s a good kid,” she said. “He just needs a bit of guidance. I think he’d really benefit from some community service.” Bailey’s eyebrows rose.

“There’s not a jury in the galaxy who would give community service on an attempted murder charge,” he said.

“I know. It would have to stay out of court, just here in C-Sec,” she replied. He considered her for a moment, and his eyes flicked over to the room where Thane and Kolyat were talking.

“Hmm. I’ll consider it,” he said eventually. Shepard nodded.

“And Bailey?” she said.

“What now?”

“Thank you. I mean it. You ever need a favour, you let me know.”

“Yeah, yeah. Send me a Christmas card or something.”

Some time later, Thane finished speaking with Kolyat, and he and Shepard headed back to the Normandy. Shepard paused at the rapid transit terminal.

“Is there something wrong?” Thane asked.

“I’ll meet you back at the ship, okay? I just have a few errands to run,” she said, and she left before he could reply. Her steps followed the familiar path to her apartment. As she opened the door, she was greeted with the delicate sound of piano music, drifting through the room. She softly shut the door behind her. 


	11. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samara: The Ardat-Yakshi. In which Shepard does some soul-searching, and Garrus has a horrifying realization.

Shepard had fallen into the habit of meditating with Samara in her down time. It was calming, granting Shepard a moment of peace amidst the mad havoc of her daily life. She would settle herself down next to the justicar, and they would sit in companionable silence for hours at a time, the vast expanse of space looming before them, until work would call Shepard away. A few days after finding Kolyat, Shepard went down to the starboard observation deck to speak with her friend. Samara rose to meet her. 

“Shepard, I wish to request your help with something,” she said. 

“Whatever you need,” Shepard said automatically. 

“Thank you. When you recruited me, I was in search of someone. An Ardat-Yakshi.”

“Ardat-Yakshi?” Shepard remembered the word, but she couldn’t recall the details.

“It is a genetic defect, unique to pure-blood asari. When she mates, she consumes the life essence of the other person, draining them until they are little more than a husk.” Samara’s voice was measured, as if she were giving a lecture, as if she had explained this many times.

“We need to stop her, then,” Shepard said.

“I am glad you see things so clearly. There is another thing, it is...difficult to say.”

“Take all the time you need.”

“The woman that I seek, she is my daughter. Her name is Morinth. I have three daughters, Shepard, and there are three Ardat-Yakshi in existence.”

“Samara, I’m so sorry--”

“I do not want your pity, Shepard. I left that behind long ago, when I took my vows. I ask only that you help me bring her to justice.”

“Whatever help I can offer is yours to take.”

They travelled to Omega to investigate, and Shepard watched Samara’s face fall when she heard of Morinth’s latest victim, a young woman. They needed to lure Morinth out, or risk losing her. And so Shepard, wearing the dress Kasumi had insisted she keep, acted as bait. She moved through the club, affecting an air of easy confidence. When Morinth invited her up to a booth, Shepard played to her tastes, discomfort running through her with every violent, enticing word that fell from her lips. There was something about Morinth that called out to Shepard, something that spoke to that secret, unacknowledged part of her that wanted to cut loose and run rampant. _Aren’t you tired of being nice?_

“Violence is a means to an end. Power is its own reward,” Shepard said, and the words were ashes in her mouth.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Morinth asked, leaning forward, her eyes alight. Shepard's heart began to race, her pulse beating erratically at her throat.

“I thought you’d never ask,” she said casually. She rose from her seat and pulled Morinth up with her, resting her arm comfortably around the other woman’s waist. As they travelled to Morinth’s apartment, Shepard felt something tugging at the corners of her mind, dark whispers enticing her to give into temptation, to let her inhibitions drop away. She felt them encircling her, choking her.

The apartment was lavish, filled with mementos from Morinth’s former flames. After a brief tour, Shepard sat down on the leather couch opposite Morinth. She leaned back casually, her legs carefully crossed. Morinth moved closer, her voice dripping honey, promising pleasure beyond Shepard’s wildest imaginings. Her hand on Shepard’s thigh was like a bolt of electricity.

“We are alike, you and I,” said the Ardat-Yakshi.

“We are nothing alike,” Shepard replied. Doubt flickered across Morinth’s face, and she leaned in close to whisper into Shepard’s ear.

“You will obey my every whim, do anything for me,” Morinth said, and her eyes flashed black as night. The room seemed to spin away around Shepard, until her vision was consumed by Morinth. A shiver raced down her spine.

But Shepard had always had a gift for self-denial.

“I don’t think so,” she said, and Morinth reared back.

“Who are you? What is this?” she demanded. To Shepard’s great relief, Samara appeared at the door and sent Morinth flying with a burst of biotic energy. Morinth sent a shot back at her, which Samara neatly avoided.

"I should've known it was you, _mother_ ," Morinth spat. Samara flung a bolt of biotic energy at her face, which Morinth dodged.

"Don't call me that," Samara said, punctuating each word with an attack.

"I can't help being your daughter, mother," said Morinth, and she sent the leather couch flying at Samara, missing by inches. The two battled through the room, sending furniture flying and singeing the walls, shattering the windows. They were evenly matched. In a moment of stillness, Morinth turned to Shepard, breathing heavy.

“Help me and I will take her place,” she said. The whispers tore through Shepard, promising her power, wealth, whatever she wanted.

“I have already dedicated myself to your cause, Shepard. Help me defeat her,” Samara said, her voice clear, cutting through the haze. Shepard looked at the justicar, her friend. It wasn’t a choice at all, really.

“It’s over, Morinth,” Shepard said, and pulled out her pistol. Moments later, Samara stood over the wrecked body of her best and brightest daughter.

“Are you alright?” asked Shepard. Stupid question, but she had to say it.

“No,” Samara said.

“Let’s get out of here."

When next they spoke, Samara thanked her for her help. Shepard offered her condolences. Samara brushed them aside.

“My feelings have always come after my duty," said the justicar. "The same is true of you."

Shepard didn't sleep that night. Restless, she alternated between staring at the ceiling and pacing the length of her cabin. Because Samara was right, Shepard's feelings had always come second. It was why her too-large cabin was empty, why there was no one there to hold her when she woke screaming, no voice but EDI's to ask if she was alright.

It certainly wasn't for a lack of offers. She wasn't blind, she knew that at least half of her crew was only waiting for her to ask. But Shepard wasn't accustomed to asking for support, for affection. Like Thane, her body was blessed with the skills to take life, but few others.

The first lesson she’d learned as a child was that weakness meant pain, meant death. Love was a weakness, a vulnerability that could be exploited, a double-edged sword of Damocles hanging above your head. Love made you fragile, like glass. Better to hide your heart away, protected from rejection and affection alike. Loneliness could sting, but love, oh, love could shatter you.

But sometimes, when she lay awake and adrift, she wished. Wished that she wasn’t left alone with the deafening silence, her constant companion. In the nights following the Kenson mission, when she awoke with tears painting her cheeks and screams dying on her tongue, she wished that there was someone there to hold her. Someone that she could trust.

Unbidden, the memory of Garrus’ sniper nest on Omega pushed its way to the front of her mind. Her relief, blinding, at seeing a friendly face. Her heart, plummeting, when she thought that she’d lost him. Laughter, grief, jokes, insults, all flashed through her head in the blink of an eye. Garrus, who had been there from the beginning. Garrus, who reminded her why she needed to strive for goodness. Garrus, who talked her down, who physically held her down until she came back to herself. 

Physically held her down, his body pressed flush against hers, his arms pinning her to the ground. Her face was too hot, suddenly. 

Shit.

No, that couldn’t be right. Garrus was her friend, if they even were that anymore. More than that, he was under her command. It was, frankly, inappropriate for an Alliance soldier to consider something like that. _But you’re not Alliance anymore,_ whispered a small voice in the back of her head. She crushed that thought down. She was Alliance first, Alliance always. Anyways, Garrus was one of the few members of the crew who had never expressed interest in her. It would be wholly irresponsible for her to entertain such feelings. Irresponsible, and inconsiderate. 

And besides, who could love a heart so bruised and bloodied? Joan was little more than a threadbare collection of ideals, held together by duty. She was more legend than person. Truly, it would be cruel to inflict that onto another person. She was no one’s responsibility but herself, and it was better to keep it that way. She could survive on her own. She didn’t think she could survive love. 

But the doubt had crept into her mind and taken root. The doubt whispered that it wouldn’t be so bad to let her walls down, that she didn’t need to punish herself with solitude. When she tried to sleep, she saw Garrus’ stormy blue eyes staring back at her. 

After another half an hour of tossing and turning, Shepard decided to give up on sleep. She threw on a tank top and some loose pants, pulled up a few mission reports to review, and wandered down to the mess hall to find some food.

...

Garrus spent the better part of a week pissed off at Shepard. They stopped sparring, and he asked Kelly to tell her that he was too busy to go away on missions. He stewed in the main battery, throwing himself into calibrating the weapons systems. But try as he might, he couldn’t hate Shepard. Quite the opposite, actually. He missed her.

While Shepard was tossing and turning two floors above, Garrus awoke in a cold sweat, his dream fading away. He couldn’t remember the specifics, but he knew that it had involved Shepard, in various states of undress. He staggered to the mess hall to grab some dextro coffee, the stronger the better. Anything to clear his head. 

Methodically, he got out the machine, plugged it in, and started making the coffee. As it started to percolate, he heard the elevator ding. Ah, some other poor sucker who couldn’t sleep. 

And then he froze, because the crew quarters were on this floor. So the only person who could be coming down the elevator was —

Shepard, hair tumbling down her shoulders, appeared around the corner. Her attention was absorbed in whatever it was she was reading, and Garrus briefly debated turning tail and running away. He must’ve made a noise, because Shepard glanced up. Almost in slow motion, Garrus saw a red flush travel across her face, and then down to her chest. He quickly looked back down at his coffee. They hadn’t spoken since the Citadel.

“Garrus,” Shepard said, and oh, it shouldn’t be that nice to hear her say his name. “What are you doing awake?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said, noncommittally.

“Yeah,” she said, “I gathered that.” The corners of her mouth quirked up and she moved closer to the kitchen, resting her arms on the counter. 

“And you?” he asked. “Couldn’t resist the lure of shitty, lukewarm coffee?”

“It’s a siren song, Vakarian, who am I to say no?”

He chuckled. “You never were known for your good taste, Shepard.”

“Hey now, you’re drinking the same thing!”

“Who, me? Dextro coffee is way better than that levo garbage you drink.”

“Fighting words, Vakarian,” she said, her voice low, rasping. He felt his heart leap into his throat. He should really go back to his bed. He should talk to her in the morning, when she was wearing more clothes. He should go.

“I seem to recall kicking your ass last time we fought, Shepard,” he drawled.

“I let you win.”

“That’s not what I remember.”

“Oh? And what exactly _do_ you remember?” 

He must be dreaming, still. There was no way Shepard was looking at him like _that_. Oh, spirits, he really needed to leave. Right now.

“Memory slipping already, eh? Remind me to drop you off at the retirement home after the next mission.”

She snorted a laugh. “Easy there, junior.”

“ _Junior?_ ” 

“Got a problem, pipsqueak?”

Garrus didn’t remember moving, but somehow he was nose to nose with Shepard, his hands resting on the counter on either side of her, bracketing her in. He had done some...preliminary research, and he knew that humans did something called ‘kissing,’ that involved putting their mouths together. Of their own accord, his eyes travelled down to her lips. If he hadn’t been completely attuned to her body, he might have missed the hitch in her breathing. His eyes met hers.

“Are we...I thought you wouldn’t want to talk to me,” she said, her voice small. Garrus cursed himself for a fool.

“I should’ve thanked you earlier, for helping me with Sidonis,” he said quietly. 

“I understand,” she said, “I would’ve been angry too.” Hesitantly, she reached out and rested a hand on his chest. She tilted her chin up to him, her cheeks tinged a soft pink under the dim fluorescent lights. Garrus found himself leaning down.

“No, it’s not--” and he stopped, because the memory of his dream hit him like a freight train. Shepard looked up at him quizzically, confusion in her warm brown eyes. 

“I, um, I have to go,” he said, and coward that he was, he ran.

_Shepard, laying next to him, freckles dancing across her skin. Whispering, laughing, joking. The words spilling out of his mouth before he could stop them:_

_“I love you.”_

Oh, he was fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written slow-burn before, and I've never written anything this long before so we are well and truly WINGING IT, ladies and gentlefolk!


	12. Pyrrhic Victories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zaeed: The Price of Revenge.

Shepard must’ve finally fallen asleep after all. She must be dreaming. There was no way Garrus was looking at her like _that_.

“Fighting words, Vakarian,” she said, and the words were like wine on her tongue, intoxicating.

“I seem to recall kicking your ass last time we fought, Shepard,” he replied.

“I let you win,” she said, and he snorted derisively.

“That’s not what I remember,” he said. And perhaps it was the tone of his voice, the light dancing in his eyes, that made her feel so reckless.

“Oh? And what exactly _do_ you remember?” she said, and it was an invitation. To what, she didn’t know. God, what was happening to her? She should leave, right now. She should make her excuses and march back up to her cabin. She didn’t move.

“Memory slipping already, eh? Remind me to drop you off at the retirement home after the next mission,” he said.

“Easy there, junior.”

“ _Junior?_ ” 

“Got a problem, pipsqueak?”

Her next words died in her throat, because Garrus was suddenly face to face with her, his hands resting on the counter on either side of her, bracketing her in. She could feel the cool metal digging into her back, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to care. A traitorous voice in the back of her head wondered what it would be like to have his hands on her, his mouth on hers. She felt her face grow hot. His eyes travelled down her face to rest on her lips, and her breath hitched.

“Are we...I thought you wouldn’t want to talk to me,” she said, her voice small, vulnerable. Attraction was a weakness, and oh, she felt weak.

“I should’ve thanked you earlier, for helping me with Sidonis,” he said quietly. 

“I understand,” she said, “I would’ve been angry too.” Hesitantly, she reached out and rested a hand on his chest. She felt her chin tilt up of its own accord, felt her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She didn’t care. She was so tired of being alone. And besides, this had to be a dream. Might as well enjoy it while it lasted.

“No, it’s not--” and he froze, his eyes widening, his mandibles flaring. “I, um, I have to go.”

The only sound in the mess hall was the quiet hum of the refrigerator, and the sound of Garrus’ rapidly retreating footsteps. Shepard remained frozen for a few moments, her eyes glazed over. Reality snapped back into place all at once.

She hadn’t _really_ been about to kiss Garrus, had she? Her cheeks flushed red at the memory, heat prickling across her face. No, there was no way she had done something so stupid and impetuous, not after she’d just decided to ignore whatever feelings she may or may not have for him. This couldn’t be real. She had only imagined the warmth of his arms on either side of her, his face inches from hers. She’d wake up soon, snug in the familiar loneliness of her cabin. She pinched her arm. Much to her dismay, she didn’t wake up. 

Shit. 

She’d almost kissed Garrus.

Worse than that, Garrus had almost kissed her, and then a look of absolute horror had passed across his face. Oh god, she’d made such a fool of herself. She should’ve known better. Of course he’d been horrified, she was about the furthest thing from a turian woman that you could get. 

Still, it stung. Was she really so abhorrent that the idea of being near her sent Garrus running? Apparently so. She reached up a hand to her mouth and bit down, hard. The pain burned bright before fading to a dull ache. She grabbed hold of it like a life jacket, wrapping it tight around herself. Physical pain had always been easy for her. The hollow pit in her stomach couldn’t be fixed with a dash of medi-gel. 

Her consolation prize was that at least Garrus seemed to have forgiven her for sparing Sidonis. Her pride might be irrevocably damaged, her feelings trampled to shit, but at least their friendship was salvageable. It was cold comfort, but she’d take what she could get. She had few enough people she could trust, she didn’t want to lose another one because she couldn’t keep her hands to herself.

Well, she certainly wasn’t going to be able to sleep now. She dumped the coffee Garrus had been making down the sink, and made her own. She pulled up the reports she’d been looking over: a couple of trading manifests, and the new crew rotation. She sat down at one of the tables and began to read, sipping at her coffee. She reread the same sentence five times before the words began to blur and meld on the page. She downed her coffee and went to the training room to clear her head.

Shepard pulled her boxing gloves on and lined up with the newly repaired punching bag. The past few days slammed into her like a brick wall, each word a blow. 

_What do you want from me Shepard?_

Her fist connected soundly with the punching bag, sending it flying back. 

_I should’ve thanked you earlier, for helping me with Sidonis._

A second punch, this time with her offhand.

_My feelings have always come after my duty. The same is true of you._

A kick spinning through the air, colliding heavily with the bag.

_I have to go._

Her body stilled. She exhaled shakily, and pulled off her gloves with numb hands. She stumbled to the elevator and hit the button for the top floor. When she reached her room, she collapsed on her bed, still fully clothed. Her throat was burning, but she screwed her eyes shut, forcing herself to breathe slowly. Sleep, when it came, was fitful at best. 

The next morning arrived as bright and early as was possible in the unchanging darkness of space. Shepard’s alarm went off at 6am, reminding her that there was work to be done. Blearily, she went to shower and clean herself up. She avoided looking at herself in the mirror. As she pulled on her uniform, her thoughts kept straying to the night before, to Garrus’ warm arms around her. Shit. She was going to have to talk to him. Probably best to do it on a full stomach.

She made her way down to the mess hall and sat down with Kasumi and Tali. They were enthusiastically discussing _Fleet and Flotilla_ , but Shepard couldn't focus on the words. Her eyes remained fixed on the doors to the main battery. When she finished eating her breakfast, she nodded vaguely at her friends and headed off to what was sure to be a truly humiliating conversation. As the door opened in front of her, she debated leaving this for another time. She could go back to the mess hall to hear about _Fleet and Flotilla_. She could go assemble her newest model ship.

Joan Shepard was many things, but she wasn’t a coward. She stepped through into the main battery, the door shutting behind her.

“Hey, got a minute?” she asked. Garrus straightened, but he made no move to turn around.

“Can it wait? I’m just in the middle of some calibrations,” he said, motioning to the control board. If he thought she’d give up that easily, he didn’t know her at all. 

“I wanted to apologize,” Shepard said.

“Apologize for what?” he asked, his voice strained. He'd make a terrible poker player.

“My actions last night.”

"Oh. Yes. Right.”

“It was out of line, and it won’t happen again.”

“Ah,” he said, and she had no goddamn clue what that meant. He still hadn’t turned around. Maybe he just couldn’t stand the sight of her.

“Are we...are we good, Garrus?” Her voice faltered slightly.

"What do you mean?" he asked. Damn, he really wasn’t making this easy for her. A thousand questions lined up, each a white-hot knife to her gut. _What the hell happened? Why did you run? What do you want from me? Are we still friends?_

_For the love of god, will you please just look at me?_

"I need to know I can count on you to be at my six," she said instead.

“Yeah, Shepard. You can always count on me,” he said.

“Good. Suit up, we’re landing on Zorya in an hour.”

“Got it.”

It was meant to be a run-of-the-mill rescue mission; rescue a few refinery workers, fight a couple of Blue Suns mercs, and then call it a day. Shepard figured it would take a couple hours max. She should’ve known better. 

Apparently Zaeed’s nemesis Vido Santiago, the man who had shot him in the head and usurped his control of the Blue Suns 20 years ago, was on the same planet. Just once, it would be nice to have an ordinary mission that stayed ordinary. 

As they crept through the jungle towards the refinery, Shepard kept a close eye on Zaeed. He looked twitchy, even by his own generous standards. By his own admission, he may not have invented paranoia, but goddamn had he perfected it. He wasn’t the only one; Shepard was on edge, not least because she could feel Garrus’ eyes on her, boring into her. She felt exposed, raw. With every step that they took forward, every merc that fell before them, the feeling intensified.

Santiago greeted them at the entrance to the refinery. He and his men were positioned on a catwalk above them, guns at the ready. He barely got a few sentences out before Zaeed aimed a shot at a canister on the wall. The resulting explosion sent Santiago and his men flying. It also set the refinery ablaze, leaving the workers trapped inside. As Santiago fled, Zaeed moved to follow him. Shepard grabbed him by the collar and flung him against the wall. Her tether, that unfaltering moral code, began to fray.

...

Garrus was an idiot. At least, that was what he kept telling himself. He had an overwhelming desire to slam his head against the wall a couple times, see if that did any good. 

He was in love with Shepard. Oh, spirits, he was in love with Shepard. He’d had her in his arms, her face turned up to his. She’d been soft, warm to the touch. Unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. Far from it. And then he’d run away. This time he did bang his head against the wall, but all it got him was a splitting headache. With his luck, she’d probably never speak to him again. Or worse, she’d completely shut him out.

It turned out to be the latter. He couldn’t turn around, couldn’t risk seeing her face, her freckles like constellations. If he looked at her, he didn’t think he could stop himself from confessing his feelings for her, and he sure as hell wasn't ready to have that conversation. And so he kept his back turned, and each of her cool, clipped words struck him directly in the chest. Spirits, he was a fool.

He watched Zaeed shoot the canister almost in slow motion. Shepard was incandescent in her rage. She looked like an avenging angel, the light of the fire reflecting off of her red hair until it looked like she was ablaze. She grabbed Zaeed and sent him flying, her fist connecting with his jaw. Garrus could've sworn he heard something crack.

“You are jeopardizing the mission for your own petty vengeance,” Shepard snapped, and her voice was like ice. Garrus felt an involuntary shudder race down his spine. Zaeed pushed her away, and they circled one another like wolves. 

“Petty vengeance? I've been waiting 20 years for this, Shepard. I'm not letting him get away this time,” Zaeed snarled. Shepard moved forward until they were inches apart. They were almost the same height, but to Garrus' eyes she towered above him.

“If those workers don't make it, Massani, I will make you wish that you had died all those years ago,” she said.

“Are you threatening me, girl?"

“Consider it a promise,” she hissed, and there was something in her voice that set Garrus’ teeth on edge. 

“If he gets away, it’s on you,” Zaeed said.

“You should have thought about that before you set the fucking building on fire.” She turned away, setting off in the direction of the workers. Garrus hurried after her, and a moment later he heard Zaeed swear loudly and then follow behind them. With every worker that they rescued, Garrus saw Zaeed’s face grow darker. As they battled their way to Santiago, Garrus could hear a constant stream of expletives over the comms. Shepard’s face, by contrast, was still. Garrus almost didn’t recognize her, and it scared the hell out of him.

...

Santiago’s shuttle pulled away just as Shepard, Zaeed, and Garrus arrived on the landing platform. Zaeed opened fire on the ship, but it was too late. His chance at vengeance was gone. He howled with rage, and then turned on Shepard. He came at her, fists flying, and she grabbed his arm and flipped him to the ground. He landed heavily. She pressed her boot to his chest as he tried to stand, and pointed her gun at his head. The tether that kept her rooted snapped, and she was set adrift, rapidly spinning out of control.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Massani?” she asked, and she didn't recognize her own voice.

“You let him get away,” Zaeed said flatly.

“You let your personal feelings put innocent people in danger.”

“Collateral damage.”

“ _T_ _hey're people._ "

“And you've never sacrificed people before? Bullshit. I know all about you, _commander._ ” Zaeed spat the word. “What was it, Shepard, 300,000 batarians the other day? An Alliance fleet? There's a river of blood behind you a mile fucking wide. So get off your goddamn high horse about a couple of workers.”

The world was crimson red to Shepard's eyes. She felt taut, like a bowstring wound too tight. She lowered her gun until it was pointing at his heart.

“Think you can come back from a bullet a second time?” she asked.

“You don’t frighten me, girl.”

“A death count that numbers in the hundreds of thousands, and I don’t scare you? Damn, I knew you were dumb, Massani, but I didn’t think you were fucking stupid.”

She felt a gentle tug on her arm, steadying her. Garrus. She looked up into his concerned face. The red faded, ever so slightly. She removed her boot from Zaeed's chest, but her pistol stayed pointing at him, moving down a few inches. 

“Stand down, Massani. That’s an order,” she said, her voice hard.

“I’m not a part of your goddamn Alliance, and neither are you. I don’t take orders.”

"If you're on my ship, you take orders."

"Then maybe I should leave your goddamn ship."

“And go where? Do what? Look at yourself, Massani, you’re barely even a person anymore. You’re just a collection of scars held together by spite.”

“What in the goddamn hell is that supposed to mean?”

“When you led the Blue Suns, what did you do when one of the men died?”

“Buried them if we could and had a drink. What's it matter?”  
  
“Did you call their families? Send a letter home?”

“Why the hell would I do that? We didn’t talk about shit like that.”

“You didn't ask,” she said. She leaned down until her face was almost level with his. “I’ve lost a lot of good people over the years, Massani, and I’ve had to look doting parents in the eye and tell them their child isn’t coming home. I’ve told expecting mothers that they were widows, I’ve talked to children who will never know their parents.”

“What’s your goddamn point?”

“I’m explaining why you should be frightened, Massani. Because I’ve stared untold grief in the face, and I have mourned a million people, _and I still keep killing._ ” Her voice rang clear across the landing pad. Garrus' hand was still on her arm. She shrugged him off.

“If you want to go crawl into some dive bar and drink away your sorrows, be my guest,” she said. “This mission is too important for me to waste my time with someone who can't follow orders. So what's it gonna be, Massani? Am I paying your bus fare, or are you gonna stop throwing a tantrum like a spoiled brat?”

“You'd be a damn fool to let me leave alive after this. What if I add you to my hit list?” There was doubt in his voice.

Shepard laughed, the sound jagged. “Show me something to be afraid of, and maybe I'll consider worrying about that. As it is, you don't frighten me, _boy_. What have you done that's worth fearing, huh?”

Zaeed scrutinized her intently. Slowly, as if he was regretting every movement, he nodded. “Something worth fearing, eh? Maybe like going through the Omega 4 Relay?”

“That'd do it.”

“And if we make it out alive, then what?”

“Then I'll be first in line to help you find Santiago. It’ll take less than 20 years, I promise you that.” Her pistol was still aimed at him, her hands unwavering. There was something in his eyes that Shepard had come to recognize over the years; respect. He might try to kill her later, but for the moment she had his loyalty.

“Alright. You’ve got a deal, Shepard.”

“Good. It’d be a shame to waste a perfectly good thermal clip,” she said, and Zaeed laughed harshly. She helped him to his feet and clapped him on the back, harder than necessary. 

She felt Garrus’ eyes on her, but she didn’t turn around. 


	13. Trial by Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali: Treason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Garrus "the risk I took was calculated, but man am I bad at math" Vakarian.

Garrus and Shepard didn’t talk much, after Zorya. They stopped sparring altogether, and Shepard avoided the main battery like the plague. She spent her spare time listening to Kasumi and Tali discuss _Fleet and Flotilla,_ meditating in silence with Thane and Samara, and absolutely wiping the floor with the crew during cards. If the crew noticed the change, they didn’t say anything. And if she woke in the middle of the night with Garrus’ name on her lips, well, no one needed to know that.

Shepard was dead set on pretending that nothing had happened between them. It was easier that way. But like it or not, the dynamic had shifted. More than once, when Shepard laughed at something he’d said, she’d catch him staring at her intently, before looking away quickly. And occasionally, when he complained about the cold, or the mission, or general existence, she’d smile just a little too fondly. And so she stopped bringing him with her for missions, stopped talking to him unless absolutely necessary.

Until Tali was accused of treason, and asked if her two oldest friends would help her. How could Shepard say no? After all, it wasn’t as though she had a reason not to bring Garrus. Well, not one that she could say out loud, anyways. She got out a shovel, and buried her feelings down deep. She was good at that. 

Once again, Shepard found herself loitering outside the doors of the main battery, wishing that she was literally anywhere else. The doors opened before her, and she stepped through.

“Garrus,” she said. This time, he did turn around to look at her, and her heart did a tiny somersault. 

“Shepard.”

“We’re heading to the Migrant Fleet shortly, you coming?” she asked.

“Sure. Yes. Right,” he said, his words stilted. Was it really so uncomfortable for him to talk to her that he could only manage single syllables? Ouch.

“Right,” she replied.

“I’ll, uh, see you on the shuttle,” he said awkwardly. 

“We leave in half an hour.” She turned on her heel and left, the door snapping shut behind her. When she turned to look, she saw that he’d locked it. _Ouch._

...

Slamming his head against the wall hadn’t worked out yet, but Garrus was nothing if not persistent. And besides, turians had very hard heads. 

He’d been doing additional research on human courtship rituals. More specifically, he had downloaded what the extranet called “romantic comedies.” He reasoned that romance was good, and comedy meant happiness, hypothetically. So far, it had just left him hopelessly confused, and with the distinct impression that humans weren’t as highly evolved as he had thought.

Tall, dark, handsome, and mysterious, that’s what the films told him was appealing. Well, tall he’d got down. He could manage tall. Dark and handsome? Even by turian standards, he wasn’t exactly winning any award for good looks. To be perfectly frank, his face had a lot more in common with the photos of monsters that had popped up when he’d first tried a ‘science-fiction movie.’ Mysterious, though, he could try. 

And so he stared at Shepard and looked away. When they spoke together, his face was just a little too distant, detached. The movies had said that was a key first step to romance. For a while he thought he was making progress. Then she stopped bringing him on missions, leaving him alone and restless in the main battery. When they did speak, her words were restrained, cold. A bad sign, the movies said.

Perhaps he was a fool, for even briefly entertaining the thought that she might return his feelings. After all, he was following all the steps that humans took to initiate a romance, and she clearly wasn’t reciprocating. If he just let well enough alone, his feelings would probably just simmer out. Eventually. Maybe. In theory.

In practice, though, he found himself lingering on her every passing glance, dissecting it for some possible hidden meaning. He would linger in the mess hall, trying to catch her eye. 

And so he just about jumped out of his skin when Shepard appeared behind him. Oh, spirits, he could barely form words around her, his tongue tied into knots. Once she left, he locked the door behind her. It helped dampen the sounds of him loudly berating himself in every language he knew.

...

The shuttle ride was eerily silent. Tali’s customarily sunny disposition was nowhere to be found. Shepard couldn’t blame her, it wasn’t easy to be reviled by the people you had fought to protect. She would know. She reached out a hand and tentatively patted Tali on the shoulder.

“Hey,” she said softly.

“Hey,” Tali replied, her voice hollow.

“We’re gonna fix this, I promise,” Shepard told her.

“I don’t know, Shepard, I really don’t. I mean, they wouldn’t make an accusation like this if they didn’t have a good reason, right?” Tali stared at the ground, her expression impossible to make out through the mask. Shepard gently pulled her face up towards her.

“We’re going to fix this,” she said firmly. “You have my word.”

“Thanks, Shepard,” said Tali. Shepard put an arm around the quarian’s shoulder and tucked her head under her chin. It was more physical contact than she was accustomed to, but Tali needed the support. Tali wound her arms around Shepard’s waist, heaving a small sigh. 

As they disembarked from the shuttle, Shepard steeled herself for the upcoming trial. Shepard’s time as XO on the Normandy had instilled in her a deeply rooted distrust and dislike for politicians, something she’d picked up from Anderson. It never sat right with her that they could move people like pawns on a chess board. Shepard knew firsthand what it was like to be responsible for choosing who lived and who died. She woke screaming most nights because of it. She didn’t trust anyone who actively sought that kind of power.

During the trial, the Admiralty Board blithely announced that Tali’s father’s research ship, the Alarei, had been taken by the geth. They didn’t warn Tali about it first, so that they could see her genuine reaction. Shepard had to bite back her outrage. As she and Tali spoke to each of the admirals, she only grew angrier. Where did they get off using Tali to further their own political ends? How dare they use her as a cover to discuss war with the geth? Shepard was sorely tempted to tell the board exactly _where_ they could stick their machinations.

But that wouldn’t help Tali, and she was on board the ship to help Tali. So she held her tongue, politely asked the admirals about the politics that were driving the trial, and kept a running tally in the back of her mind of people she wanted to fistfight. 

When they’d finished talking with all of the admirals, they left to retake the Alarei from the geth. It was almost a relief to fight her way through the ship. Fighting was second nature to her, something that she could lose herself in. Pointing and shooting was easier than mincing words with diplomats. Her gaze narrowed to the end of her rifle, everything else fading into the background.

_She raises her Widow, geth hunter in her crosshairs. A clean shot, it falls. She watches Tali’s drone swoop forward, distracting one of the geth. In another breath, the geth falls. The rifle zooms in, and something catches Shepard’s eye. There, in the next room, a quarian. She brings down the geth, one by one, until none remain._

Tali tore past Shepard, jerking her out of her reverie. The quarian in the next room was her father, Rael’Zorah. She fell to her knees next to him, and the sound of her strangled cries filled the empty hallways of the Alarei.

“No. Nonono. You wouldn’t leave me like this, not like this,” Tali sobbed, gasping for air. Shepard quickly holstered her rifle and followed behind. Gently, she helped Tali to her feet.

“Hey, come here,” she said, and tugged Tali into her arms. She hummed softly as Tali cried against her shoulder. Shepard didn’t know many songs, and so she just kept humming the same tune over and over, rubbing small circles on Tali's back. It was the song that Marie had been playing on the piano, a lullaby. She lost track of how much time passed until the tears stopped. Garrus cleared his throat awkwardly.

“We should get going,” he said. Shepard nodded, and released Tali, gently patting her on the back. They pulled out their weapons and moved down the corridor, fighting their way through geth. 

The final room of the station was filled floor to ceiling with a computer terminal, hopefully containing information about Rael’Zorah’s experiments. In front of it was a platoon of geth and a geth prime. There was little in the way of cover, and Shepard motioned for Garrus and Tali to stay behind her. But Tali barrelled past Shepard, guns blazing, driven by her anger at her father, her anger at herself. One of the geth heavies closed in on her, its gun levelled at her mask. Her breakable, fragile mask. _Shit_. Shepard activated her tactical cloak and raced after her, coming up behind the geth and shooting it point blank in the back of the head.

Pain ripped through her left arm. She whipped around in time to catch sight of the drone that had hit her. Her cloak faded away, and with a sinking heart she realized that she was smack dab in the middle of a group of geth. _Shitshitshit._ She shoved Tali towards Garrus and aimed a hack at one of the combat drones. As it started firing on its allies, she crouched down and tumbled through the legs of the geth prime, sprinting to the opposite side of the room. She looked around wildly until she saw that Tali was safe, tucked behind Garrus. She breathed a momentary sigh of relief that quickly turned into a sharp inhale as a shot burned through her right leg. 

“Shepard, watch out!” Garrus shouted. Shepard looked up to see the prime running at her, and she barely threw herself out of the way in time. She landed on her elbow, badly, and she hissed in pain. The prime advanced on her, filling her blurring vision. 

“Get away from her!” Shepard saw the prime fall. Breathing raggedly, she struggled to stand. She felt an arm wrap around her and pull her upright. 

“I've got you,” Garrus said, but she could barely hear him above the roaring in her ears.

“Oh, keelah, I'm so sorry.” Tali started applying medi-gel to Shepard's wounds, apologies spilling from her mouth. “I don't know what came over me.”

“Shhh, Tali, I'm fine. It'll take a lot more than that to kill me,” Shepard said, and she laughed weakly. “I tried death, it didn't stick.”

“Please, I-- I think we'd all prefer if you didn't tempt fate there, Shepard. With your luck, there'll be another dozen geth through the next door,” Garrus replied. Shepard snorted and then winced. Tali continued to fuss over her, her hands shaking.

“Tali, how about you look for some evidence to help prove your innocence?” Shepard suggested. Tali nodded her head reluctantly and went over to the computer. Shepard tentatively put her weight on her leg. It gave out beneath her, and she swore softly, soft enough that Tali wouldn’t hear.

“Garrus, help me over there?” she asked quietly. It was a weakness, having to lean on others for help, but pride was a luxury she could ill afford at that moment.

“You got it.” He leaned down and slung her arm over his shoulder and half walked half carried her over to the console. She fought the urge to lean into his touch, to revel in the feeling of his hands on her. Not the time. The medi-gel numbed the pain in her leg, but it would take time to heal. Time she didn't have. She had a trial to win. And, as it turned out, she had no evidence that she could present.

…

Garrus had always admired Shepard in combat. For a woman who danced like a fly stuck in molasses, her fighting style was surprisingly graceful, simultaneously chaotic and still, like the eye of a storm. But when she fell, it was like all of the air left the room.

He only remembered flashes of the fight. He saw Tali run in headfirst. Shepard plunged in after her, placing herself square in the middle of the geth. She shoved Tali towards him and he pulled her away from the melee. And then Shepard fell, and his vision went black. Distantly, he heard himself shout her name, heard the rain of bullets around him. The next thing he was fully aware of was wrapping his arms around her and pulling her up until she was flush against his side. 

She was too pale, her smile wan as she dismissed Tali’s concerns. Tenderly, reverentially, he helped her stay upright, his hand just a little bit too snug around her waist.

“I’ve got you,” he said, and he wished it was true.

When they arrived back on the ship, the trial was in full swing. The admirals assumed that the geth had overpowered Shepard. Rookie mistake, he thought wryly. The crushing vacuum of space hadn’t been able to overpower Shepard, a couple of AI weren’t going to bring her down. 

He settled into the stands to spectate. As Shepard paced across the courtroom, there was no sign of any injury, aside from the blood drying on her armour. And from the moment she opened her mouth, he was spellbound. She moved with purpose, with power, as she berated the admirals for their self-serving ambition. She described Tali’s overwhelming sacrifice for the good of the quarian people. She had the crowd wrapped around her little finger.

Garrus had never been one for following orders. It was why he’d left the turian military, why he’d left C-Sec. But as he listened to Shepard speak, he knew that he would do anything she asked of him, unquestioningly. This was a woman who could command armies, who could inspire unfaltering loyalty. She stood her ground, unyielding, on legs that could barely hold her.

Oh, _spirits,_ he was in love with her. But what chance did a washed up vigilante have with a woman like _that_? But he didn’t care what his chances were. His feelings weren’t going to fade away, no matter how much he wished they would.

There had to be something about human courtship that he was missing. Being ‘mysterious’ clearly wasn’t working out. Perhaps it was time for a different tactic.


	14. The Mirror Crack'd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DLC: Lair of the Shadow Broker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m skipping Jack’s mission because I will die mad about her fight with Miranda. Bioware fite me irl

There was one final thing that Shepard wanted to do before she went to get the Reaper IFF. It was time to go to Illium, to help Liara find the Shadow Broker. Shepard was planning to bring Kasumi and Samara along with her, but Tali wanted to visit Liara, and she suggested that Garrus come as well. How could Shepard refuse?

At least Garrus was talking to her again. It was almost the same as their old banter, before the night in the mess hall. Almost. There was still an undercurrent of tension there, but she’d take what she could get, and she wouldn’t hope for more.

“Isn’t Liara’s office in the other direction?” Tali asked as they made their way towards the shopping district.

“I need to pick up some supplies,” Shepard explained. She had a sneaking suspicion that she would want to be armed to the teeth for the upcoming mission, which meant new armour and weapons. She had her sights set on a medi-gel upgrade, and it wasn't going to come cheap.

“You mean: ‘I have some shopkeepers to scam,’” Garrus interjected.

“My name is Commander Shepard, and this is my favourite store on Illium,” Tali said, over exaggerating every word. The effect was slightly ruined by her small giggle afterwards.

“Oi, if you two jokers want to pay full price, by all means be my guest,” Shepard said, but she was smiling. It was good to hear Tali laugh again. It was even better to have Garrus joke with her, even if the joke was at her own expense.

“Shepard, you don’t pay us,” Garrus griped. “I don’t have a credit to my name.”

“Well, maybe I would if you stopped complaining.”

“I once watched you haggle for four hours for a model ship, commander tightwad,” he groused. “I highly doubt you’d spring for a salary.”

“You know what I'm hearing, Vakarian? Complaining,” she said. As they passed _Memories of Illium_ , something caught her eye. She froze in her tracks and made a beeline for the counter.

“Is that...a hamster?” she asked, her eyes wide. It was adorable, in the way that only a tiny fluffy creature could be. Its attention was fixated on a handful of sunflower seeds that someone had tossed in with it, and it was shoving as many as it could into its little chubby cheeks. She felt an all-encompassing urge to squeal. She’d never had a pet before; too small, too breakable. She’d never even had the courage to buy fish for the aquarium in her room. She’d been built to fight, she didn’t know how to care for something so fragile. 

“I’m sure Kasumi could steal it for you,” Tali said brightly. The store attendant looked up sharply.

“What was that, Tali? I don’t think the folks on the next planet heard you,” Garrus replied dryly.

“It was just a suggestion,” Tali said defensively.

“It’s fine,” Shepard said, moving away from the display. “I wouldn’t know what to do with a hamster, anyways.” Too small, too breakable. And besides, she didn’t know if she was going to survive the trip through the Omega 4 Relay. She could hardly adopt a pet if she might die in a few weeks. But she did cast one last, forlorn look at the tiny creature.

The trail to the shadow broker led to a rogue asari Spectre: Tela Vasir. She’d been sent by the Shadow Broker to deal with Liara, whatever the cost. When her treachery was revealed, Shepard, Liara, Garrus, and Tali all gave chase, racing to catch up with her. Eventually, she took to the skies in an air car. Liara hotwired one of the other cars in the lot, and Shepard jumped into the driver’s seat, her eyes lighting up.

“There’s only room for one in the back,” Liara said.

“Garrus, get in,” Shepard said, too quickly.

“Oh no. Nonono. I’m not getting into a car with you, especially not one that flies,” the turian replied, shaking his head so vigorously he almost dislodged his visor.

“She’s getting away, Garrus,” Shepard said impatiently.

“Why can’t Liara drive?”

“I don’t have a license for this kind of vehicle,” the asari replied, craning her neck to follow Vasir’s progress. 

“And Shepard does??” The disbelief in his voice was palpable. 

“N7 training. I’m licensed to drive just about any vehicle you care to name." There was a touch of pride there.

“You passed a driving test? Did you bribe the instructor?”

“Get in, or I’m bringing Tali instead,” Shepard said, revving the engine. Tali backed away.

“I’m okay, Shepard, you go on ahead!” she said, putting distance between herself and the car. Shepard tsked.

“You’re up, Vakarian,” she said. “Unless you’re too scared.”

“Are you going to raise my hazard pay? Or better yet, give me hazard pay?” Garrus had the look of a man drafting his will in his head.

_“Garrus.”_

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.” As soon as the door shut behind him, Shepard hit the gas. Garrus landed heavily in the backseat, desperately reaching for the seat belt. 

As it happened, Shepard had passed her driving tests with flying colours. It wasn’t that she was a bad driver, per se, it was just that driving was the only time that she cut loose. It wasn’t her fault that that sometimes meant rocketing through the air at breakneck speeds as her companions held on for dear life.

“Shepard, she’s getting away!” Liara cried.

“Not if I have anything to say about it!” Shepard yelled, and pulled the car to the right just as a truck came barrelling through the air towards them. She was grinning ear-to-ear, and she had an irrepressible desire to stick her head out of the window and feel the breeze in her hair. She laughed brightly, freer than she’d felt in months. All of her fears, her doubts, the breathtaking pain of rejection, vanished out into the night. 

“Damn it, Shepard, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Garrus asked weakly. Shepard glanced in the rearview mirror for a moment. She didn’t know much about turian anatomy, but she knew nausea when she saw it. 

“Just like the good old days, eh Garrus?” she said. Garrus groaned.

“Shepard, in the good old days we used to draw straws for which poor sucker had to drive in the Mako with you.”

“I seem to recall you coming on almost every mission,” Shepard said, and threw the car into a sharp left turn.

“I drew a lot of short straws,” he griped, his talons digging into the seat. "I think Wrex rigged it."

“Look out, she’s got backup!” Liara shouted. A few cars pulled away from the main lane and circled behind them. Shepard’s grin widened.

“What kind of guns does this thing have?” she asked, her eyes scanning the controls. 

“It’s a taxi, it’s got a fare meter!” Liara yelped as the car took an abrupt nosedive, followed by a corkscrew spin.

“Hold on tight, you two, it’s going to be a bumpy ride!” Shepard shouted.

“What the hell has it been up until this point??” Garrus asked, his voice faint.

Shepard pulled the car into a barrel roll, deftly avoiding the oncoming fire. She ducked and weaved through traffic, keeping a close eye on Vasir. She could hear Liara yelling and Garrus complaining in the background, but that didn’t matter. For a few brief, shining moments, the world was reduced to her, Vasir’s car, and the thrill of the open air. The lights of the oncoming traffic shone like stars. Her heart felt full.

The exhilaration stayed with her even after she landed the car. Through the firefight that followed, she felt lighter than air, brighter than the sun. Vasir’s mercs were no match for her. It was almost unfair, really. 

The euphoria abruptly faded as she watched Vasir grab a bystander, using her as a shield. 

“Drop the thermal clips, Shepard, and I won’t shoot her,” Vasir said. Shepard’s heart stilled.

“I don’t think so,” she said.

“The great Commander Shepard wouldn’t let an innocent die,” Vasir scoffed. Shepard reached for her customary veneer of calm and latched it into place. When she spoke, her voice was cool, detached. 

“If you know my name, then you'll know I’ve sacrificed tens of thousands of innocent people, Vasir. I won't hesitate to shoot a damn hostage to stop you." The words were bitter on her tongue. The hostage sobbed, but Shepard didn’t flinch, her gun fixed on Vasir’s head. She wished she was bluffing.

The Spectre cursed and tossed the hostage aside, readying herself for battle. Shepard made sure that the hostage was clear before she moved to cover. She didn't look at Garrus and Liara.

…

Garrus had expected to die in that sniper’s nest in Omega. Shepard had saved him then, had saved him in so many ways since then. And now, here he was, bracing himself for a fiery death at the hands of the woman he was in love with. 

It should probably be a crime that the happiest he’d seen her in months was when she was threatening him with grievous bodily harm. She was practically _giggling_ as he held on for dear life, his talons tearing through the car seats. Damn it, that shouldn’t be as hot as it was. A truck came barrelling at them and Garrus fervently prayed to whoever might be listening for a quick, painless death. The car spiralled out of the way, and he heard her laughter, bright as the noonday sun. 

“It’s going to be a bumpy ride!” she said, and oh, spirits, he was going to die, because the car was driving directly at one of the buildings. A fraction of a second before they became a window decoration, Shepard banked to the right, hard. One of their pursuers didn’t make it, slamming directly into the building in a spray of sparks and shrapnel. The others scraped the glass, but made it through otherwise unscathed. 

“Shepard, they’re still coming!” Liara shouted. Garrus groaned. His eyes flickered to Shepard’s face, and his heart fluttered. She looked so carefree, like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Spirits, he loved her. And then she hit the gas and his head knocked back against the rear window and he saw stars.

When they finally, blessedly landed, Garrus spilled out of the vehicle. He fell to his knees, and felt the overwhelming temptation to kiss the ground. He heard the door shut behind him and he felt a hand on his head. Shepard crouched down next to him, her face inches from his.

“Alright there, Garrus?” The light of the setting sun shone across her face, decorating it with a dizzying array of pinks and oranges. Her eyes were alight, mischievous. Perhaps he had died after all, and this was the afterlife. It was certainly a damn sight better than he’d been expecting.

“Never better, Shepard,” he said breathlessly. She laughed again, so bright, and he found himself leaning in.

A blast ricocheted past them, missing them by inches. Shepard winked at him, actually winked at him, and pulled out her gun, moving behind cover. He felt dazed, disoriented. Perhaps that was why he almost immediately got knocked out by the mercs that were attacking them. He woke to Shepard’s smile, and oh he could get used to that. Preferably without the stabbing pain.

“Sleeping on the job, Vakarian?” she said wryly. She was crouched next to him, her gun resting on the edge of the parking barricades. 

“Who, me? I would never,” he replied, and winced as he sat up. He hauled out his rifle and settled back in, careful to keep his head down. He watched her knock out an engineer with a single, well-placed shot of her Widow Anti-Matter rifle. She lined up shot after shot, a small smile on her face. She glanced over at him and arched an eyebrow, her face flushed.

“Take a vid, it’ll last longer,” she suggested.

“Remind me why I can’t have a gun like that?” he asked. She snorted, turning back to the battle.

“Can’t run the risk of it falling into enemy hands when you get knocked out,” she replied. 

“You're just worried I'll wipe the floor with you.”

“You're all talk, Garrus.” 

“Only one way to find out, Shepard.” She grinned at him, and for a few bright, shining moments, it was like nothing had changed. 

And then he watched her, cold and detached, telling Vasir that she wouldn’t hesitate to kill a hostage, to sacrifice an innocent. 

_I won't let fear compromise who I am,_ she'd said all those years ago. _We do it right, or not at all._

There was no way she meant it. She was just saying it to get Vasir to let the woman go. She had to be. But he remembered her boot on Zaeed's chest, her words clear, harsh.

_I’ve stared untold grief in the face, and I have mourned a million people, and I still keep killing._

It was like he was seeing her for the first time.

…

Vasir lay dying before her, violet blood spilling from her wounds. It had been a difficult fight, and Liara and Garrus had both been injured. They were further back, attending to their wounds. Too far away to hear Vasir’s next words.

“Don't you judge me, Shepard,” she spat. Shepard kneeled down before her. 

“You turned a blind eye to the Shadow Broker's crimes,” she said.

“He gave me damn good intel over the years, helped me save lives.”

“There's always a cost, Vasir. Damn it, you're supposed to be a Spectre.” She couldn’t keep the reproach out of her voice. She couldn’t tell how much was directed at herself.

“You’re saying you wouldn’t do the same? Don't fool yourself, Shepard. The council just uses us for their dirty work. Your hands are just as red as mine,” Vasir snapped. Shepard nodded absently. The Rachni, Saren, Sovereign, so many choices left to her. So many pieces moved across the chess board. She was just a pawn who’d had the audacity to make it to the other end.

“There's always a choice.” She held onto that belief so tightly it cut her. 

“You think you're better than me?” Vasir asked. The question hung in the air, a blade biting deep on both sides.

Shepard considered her for a long moment. The weight of a thousand lives pressed down on her, a reminder of her failings. There had been compromises, costs, too numerous to mention. There was a Cerberus crest on the ship she commanded. “No, I don’t,” she said at last. “But that doesn’t mean I’m allowed to stop trying.”

“Fuck off and let me die in peace.”

“Very well. For what’s little it’s worth, I’m sorry it came to this.”

“But you’re not sorry that I’m dead?”

“No,” Shepard replied, and she left.

...

Garrus could hear Liara and Shepard arguing.

“What do you want me to say, Shepard? That I mourned you? That losing you tore me apart? It did,” Liara snapped. “And you’re back now, and I’m still relying on you to solve my problems.” He saw Shepard wince.

“Isn’t that what friends are for?” she asked. Had her voice always been so hollow? Guilt laced itself through every word, like poison on an assassin’s blade. How many people was she carrying with her? How much grief? Damn it, where did she get off holding herself responsible for every sin ever committed? She was dying from a thousand cuts, and she was doing it to herself.

Garrus was startled to realize that he was angry with her. Furious, even. It was so like Shepard to throw herself in harm’s way for others, so damn like her to use herself as a human shield. Self-sacrifice came to her as naturally as breathing. He saw her throwing herself in front of Tali. He saw her, centred in his crosshairs, the only thing between Sidonis and a bullet. He saw her shouldering the burdens of every member of the crew, putting their needs, always, above her own. Hell, she'd take responsibility for the whole damn galaxy, if they asked her to. 

Was she so blind that she couldn’t see how much she mattered to them? To him? Did she know that they’d been awake all night when she returned from the Kenson mission, unable to sleep until they knew she was stable? 

But then, how could she know? It wasn’t as though they told her. It wasn’t as though _he_ told her. She was burning herself alive for them with barely a word of thanks. Perhaps it was time that changed. 

…

The journey through the Shadow Broker’s base turned out to be a casual walk through the park. Yes, they were travelling across a storm-tossed ship that could cast them off at any minute, and yes they were almost struck by lightning at every turn, but it was nothing compared to the horrors Shepard faced daily. Even the final fight with the Shadow Broker himself was over in minutes. Shepard barely broke a sweat. 

The battle was easy, but what followed afterwards, oh, that was hard. Where the Shadow Broker fell, Shepard watched Liara rise, her words assuring the Broker’s agents. Her friend, so gentle, took on an empire of secrets. She was equal parts hopelessly proud and helplessly worried. What happened to Joan, if people stopped needing her to fix their problems? 

“There are some files I think might interest you,” Liara said from her position at the main console, interrupting Shepard’s thoughts. Shepard nodded absentmindedly. She idly skimmed through the dossiers. And then:

_Garrus Vakarian._

_Leadership ability overshadowed by Shepard. Unlikely to develop full potential under Shepard’s command._

Her hand hovered over the screen. It would be wrong to pry through his personal data. It was an invasion of privacy, and she’d invaded his life enough. But she pressed the button all the same. 

She laughed softly about his top played songs during battle. She was out there risking life and limb, and he was listening to the _Fleet and Flotilla_ soundtrack? And _club music?_ The absolute nerve, she thought wryly.

Something else caught her eye, something that lodged her heart firmly in her throat.

_Extranet Searches_

  * _Human courtship rituals_
  * _Human romance_
  * _Human romantic comedies_
  * _Love, Actually human movie_
  * _Hugh Grant films_
  * _How to tell a human you love them_
  * _Turian concussion symptoms_



Oh. _Oh._ It took a few minutes for the words to process. She couldn’t move, her legs rooted to the spot. There had to be some mistake. But the Shadow Broker's information was always correct. Which meant...what? Garrus loved her? She tried to wrap her head around it, tried to make her tongue form the words. She couldn’t do it. He'd run away from her, had been avoiding talking to her for weeks. Her eyes darted back to the screen to check the log date. Oh god, it was the morning after that disastrous night in the mess hall. It was too much, too sudden. She raised her hand to her mouth and bit down hard to cut off the scream. She needed to leave, right now.

“Liara?” she said, her voice strained.

“Yes, Shepard?”

“Would you like a tour of the Normandy?”

“Certainly, just give me a moment.”

Shepard heaved a sigh of relief, desperate to leave. While Liara was shown around the ship, Shepard went up to her cabin. She opened up her dresser and she tugged out the stained glass, clutching it to her chest. 

_Garrus loved her._

Oh god, she was going to have to talk to him. She didn't want to talk to him. She wasn’t equipped to deal with something like this. She was a soldier, a weapon. She didn’t know how to be soft. She barely knew how to love.

She stopped herself there. There’s only so much you can lie to yourself, after all. Since Horizon, Shepard had repeatedly insisted that she could go without love, that her relationships were purely professional. It was bullshit, of course. Shepard loved, deeply and utterly. She cared for every member of her crew with every scrap of her shattered heart. She loved blindly, and with no expectation of return. And because she didn't expect a return, she didn't look for one. And now she was left stranded, with no idea how to proceed. Oh, she was a fool.

There was a hesitant knock at the door.

“Come in,” Shepard managed. Liara stepped into the room. 

“It’s good to see you, Shepard,” she said.

“You’ve seen me all week, Liara,” Shepard replied, smiling faintly. Liara moved to sit beside her and gently elbowed her in the side.

“It is good to see you when we are not both moments away from death,” she clarified. Shepard laughed softly.

“Hmm, fair enough.”

“Are you alright, Shepard?” Liara turned to face her, her full attention focused on Shepard’s face. Shepard looked away, the tips of her ears burning red. 

“Who, me? Right as rain. Never better.” The false bravado in her voice rang hollow in her ears. Liara considered her for a moment.

“I wanted to apologize," she said. "I don't want you to think I don't appreciate your help.”

“There’s no need, I understand--”

“I don’t think that you do, Shepard. You have done so much for me, and I want to help you in return.”

“That’s really not necessary,” Shepard said, her gaze still fixed on the ground. She was still too raw, too vulnerable. She felt tears stinging her eyes, and then the feather light touch of Liara’s hand on her chin, pulling her up face to face.

“Isn’t that what friends are for?” Liara said softly, and Shepard felt a traitorous tear roll down her cheek. Liara gently brushed it away.

“You’re not alone in this, my friend. I thought you should know that,” she said. She rested her head on Shepard’s shoulder, and they stayed like that, unmoving, for some time. Eventually, when the tears had finished falling, Liara rose from her seat.

“I almost forgot, Tali asked that we go to the mess hall together,” the asari said. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yes?” Shepard gave her a watery smile. 

“Thank you,” she said softly. Liara smiled her familiar, stranger’s smile, and offered her hand. Together, they made their way down to the third level.

The mess hall was filled with the entirety of the crew. Even Zaeed was there, although he had his arms firmly crossed and a scowl affixed to his face. 

“Shepard!” Tali exclaimed. “We have a surprise for you!”

“A surprise? Are you all going to actually get some work done for once?” Shepard asked wryly. Her eyes searched the sea of faces around her, looking for--

“Now, is that any way to thank the people who spent their hard-earned credits on a gift for you?” Garrus pushed his way forward, laughter in his eyes. She couldn’t breathe, and she felt a rush of heat to her face, her pulse beating at her throat. _Shit._

“What happened to ‘you don’t pay us, Shepard,’” she said breathlessly. 

“Are you saying you don't want the gift?" he asked.

"I didn't say that," she said quickly, and Garrus laughed. Shepard thought it was the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard. Tali enthusiastically handed her a small glass cage, containing the tiny, fluffy hamster from Illium. Too much, too bright. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to be loved. 

So many tears today. She reverentially picked up and cradled the tiny bundle of fur.

“Thank you,” she said. She looked at Kasumi and raised an eyebrow. “You did pay for this, yeah?” The master thief held up her hands.

“Garrus insisted we pay,” she explained. “It was his idea.” Shepard’s eyes found Garrus. 

“Thank you,” she said again, and she wasn’t sure exactly what she was thanking him for. 


	15. Absolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Absolution: from the Latin absolutus, meaning "set free." The act of forgiving someone for having done something wrong or sinful, typically following a confession.
> 
> Reach and flexibility.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've literally never written romance before so I spent the whole time just going "?????"

_you got freckles on your shoulder, ammunition like a solider_

_and visions, ambitions to be the best._

_oh, jenny why don't we, jenny why don't we be getting together?_

_i said jenny shouldn't we, jenny shouldn't we be getting together?_

-Jenny, WALK THE MOON

She named the hamster Mako. Of course she did. Garrus shook his head.

“That’s animal abuse, Shepard,” he said. She looked up at him and his heart skipped a beat, a human cliché that was popular in the romantic comedies he’d watched. There was a brightness in her warm, brown eyes. It was the same joy he’d seen when she was behind the wheel of the sky car, albeit calmer, less reckless.

“Don’t you listen to him, Mako,” she said, her eyes still on Garrus. She handed Mako a sunflower seed and he started happily munching away. She gently deposited him back into his cage. When she turned back to the group, the corners of her lips quirked up.

“Well, since you’re all clearly not working right now, I do have a few bottles of Serrice Ice Brandy that I picked up from the Citadel,” she said, and then added, “and some dextro alcohol for Tali.”

“Hey, what about me?” Garrus asked, mock offended. Her answering smile was beatific.

“I suppose you can have some too, Garrus,” she said, and the sound of his name on her tongue was more intoxicating than any liquor. “But I expect you all ready for work at 6am sharp, understood?”

“Yes, mom,” Kasumi joked. Shepard snorted.

“5am for you, Goto,” she said, and Kasumi laughed brightly.

Garrus lost track of time from there. The only thing he could remember was Shepard. Shepard, laughing. Shepard, talking animatedly with the crew. Shepard, cooing softly over Mako. 

And Shepard, whispering in his ear that she wanted to talk to him in the morning, her warm breath ghosting across his face, her body pressed up against him. She took a small step back and he felt the loss like a knife. He opened his mouth to reply, but she was gone.

...

Shepard wasn’t really one for drinking, and so she only had a few sips of brandy. But the crew needed a respite, and if that meant over-priced alcohol, then it was a small price to pay. Truth be told, she was more than a little overwhelmed. For years she’d kept her heart cordoned off, safe from the rest of the world. Being the focus of a room of smiling people was several miles away from her comfort zone.

Well, she was accustomed to having the attention of every person in a room, it went hand in hand with the power she’d been made to accept. But that attention was always somber, restrained. It was men and women listening to her as she gave a rallying speech before a difficult battle, or her crew watching her as she issued orders before a mission. It wasn’t this unrestrained deluge of affection. It wasn’t Tali and Kasumi, giggling, slinging their arms around her shoulder and waist. It wasn’t Mordin enthusiastically lecturing her on his latest experiment, or Grunt challenging her to an arm wrestling contest.

And she certainly wasn’t accustomed to the look in Garrus’ eyes; dark, promising. 

She really shouldn’t encourage him. It was cruel to inflict her own particular brand of broken on someone else. It was selfish. It could only end badly, leaving their friendship bruised and battered. She shouldn’t encourage him. But good god, she wanted to. 

She was only dimly aware of moving towards him, of tugging him down to whisper into his ear.

“Talk to me in the morning,” she said, and she saw the whole world in his eyes.

Shepard wasn’t one for drinking, and so she woke up at 6am, as always. And because she hadn’t been drinking, she remembered the night before with the kind of disconcerting clarity that follows ill-considered decisions. She wandered over to Mako’s cage.

“Hello, little friend,” she said softly. Mako wandered out of his tiny hut, scurried around a bit, and then returned. She noticed that someone had graciously brought a supply of hamster food up to her room, helpfully labelled with how much food a hamster should eat in a day. She suspected Miranda; no one else on the ship had handwriting that was even remotely legible. She carefully measured out Mako’s food and checked that he had enough water. Satisfied that he was taken care of, she set about preparing herself for the day.

Shepard braided back her hair with practiced hands. The habitual tugging on her scalp helped to ground her, pulling her back into her body. Her hair was one of a handful of things about herself she considered beautiful. It was impractically long, painstakingly maintained, and it burned a deep auburn. She’d never spent much time thinking about her appearance, but she was suddenly hyper aware of it. What did Garrus see when he looked at her?

Hell, what she'd seen of turians seemed to indicate that tall and lanky was the ideal shape, and she'd certainly cornered the market on that. Her face was sharp and angular, her nose broken and poorly set. Her body was athletic, yes, but there was a gangliness about her that she’d never quite grown out of. She was wiry, rather than lithe. Hers was not a body to wax rhapsodic about, but it took her where she needed to be, and allowed her to do what she needed to do.

No, her body was fine, it was the inside of her that was fucked up. Maybe some part of her was convinced that once Garrus saw what she was really like, and saw the gnarled remainders of her soul, he’d run again. It was easier, in a way, to chalk it up to her physical appearance. 

It was almost impressive; here she had concrete, irrefutable evidence that Garrus had feelings for her, and she was still convinced that he would reject her. The mental gymnastics involved were truly on a whole other level. Old habits die hard, she supposed.

Still, she’d never considered herself a coward, and so she pulled on her workout gear, and she headed for the main battery. As she approached the door, she realized with a sinking heart that she had no idea how to begin. ‘I know you're in love with me,’ was a little bit too strong of a lead in. Maybe this was a bad idea. Strike that, this was definitely a bad idea. But the door was open now, and Garrus was looking at her with his storm blue eyes. Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

“Want to spar?” she asked. Turian anatomy didn’t allow for much in the way of facial expression, but she knew him well enough to see the surprise in his face. Surprise, and something else.

“Looking to get your ass kicked, Shepard?” His voice was teasing.

“Something like that.”

“I'm just finishing up some calibrations, I'll meet you there.”

...

She was in the middle of a set of push-ups as Garrus entered the workout room. The unnatural light of the room played across the muscles in her shoulders, her back. Lazarus may have removed the scars on her palms, but they’d left the rest; white discolouration raced across her sun-burnt skin, reminders of battles lost and won. She looked like she could snap him in half, and it left him weak in the knees. She glanced up at him and rose to stand, dusting herself off. Pale skin flushed pink, red hair plastered to her forehead, Garrus thought she’d never looked so radiant.

“You wanted to talk?” he ventured.

“Spar with me first,” she said, and who was he to refuse? He’d forgone his usual armour in favour of more casual clothes. Well, casual by turian standards; they were still unspeakably intricate. He rolled his neck to loosen some of the stiffness. He hadn’t slept well, too many dreams keeping him up long into the night.

“Can I warm up first?” he asked. She nodded, and leaned against the wall, her eyes on him. It was the first time they’d been alone together since the mess hall. Spirits, he wished he knew what she was thinking.

“Take a vid, it’ll last longer,” he joked as he stretched. She snorted, and some of the tension dissipated. 

“I’m just trying to decide if I should have you court-martialed for that crime of fashion,” she said thoughtfully. He scoffed.

“Shepard, this is the height of turian fashion.”

“It’s got, what, 80 buckles? That’s an affront to god if ever I saw one, Vakarian.”

“You’re saying your clothes are any better?” He made a show of giving her the once over. “I don’t think so, Shepard.”

She snorted. “At least mine doesn’t take a hundred years to remove.”

“I’ll have you know I can get this off in ten minutes flat.”

“Ten minutes? I can do it in ten seconds,” she said. _Shitshitshit_ he really should not be thinking about Shepard undressing. Mayday, mayday, abort mission, tuck and roll. 

“You’re all talk, Shepard,” he breathed.

“Only one way to find out, Vakarian,” she said. “But I asked you here to spar. Unless you’re too scared?”

“You don’t frighten me,” he lied. He fell back into a defensive position, his arms raised to block her, and not a moment too soon: her left hand came whistling through the air at him. A few weeks ago that might have caught him off guard. Now, he caught it easily and batted it away.

“That the best you can do, Shepard? You’re losing your touch in your old age,” he said. He followed it up with a punch to her face, but she was just a little bit too quick. She ducked out of the way and flitted behind him, pulling him into a headlock before he could turn around, his back pulled flush against her. Breathing was suddenly extremely difficult.

“Do you know why I couldn't let you kill Sidonis?” she asked, her lips pressing against his ear. Whatever he was expecting her to say, it certainly wasn’t that. Well, he hadn’t gotten this far in life by confronting serious emotions head on.

“Because you're Commander Shepard, and you'd rather chug acid than hurt a fly?” he guessed. He grabbed hold of her arms and flipped her over and onto the ground. She let out a sharp exhale as the wind was knocked out of her. He rested his foot on her chest, keeping her pinned to the ground.

“No,” she said.

“Because you’re on a one-woman crusade to make me a better person?” he suggested. He was hoping for an eye roll, maybe a derisive laugh.

“I couldn't lose you,” she said, and he lost his balance. Mayday, abort mission, get the hell out of there. She took advantage of his distraction and launched herself at his torso and knocked him to the ground. She restrained his hands above him and he inhaled sharply.

What was that human expression? In for a penny, in for a pound?

“Would you have shot Zaeed?” he asked. She stilled above him, her grip on his hands slackening.

“No,” she said, but she didn’t sound convinced. He flipped them over, his hands holding her down.

“Would you have killed that hostage?”

“I...don’t know.” There was so much pain in her voice, so much confusion. He leaned down, his hands letting go of hers to rest lightly to either side of her.

“What if I’m worried about losing you?” he said softly. He watched her eyes shut, just like they had on Omega. _You left big shoes to fill, Shepard._ It was only a handful of months ago. It felt like years. 

...

Her eyes closed of their own accord, a vain attempt to block out the look on his face. It didn’t work, of course, she’d memorized his every glance. She wondered when had that happened. She thought about Vasir, thought about Kenson. Every mistake she’d made, every difficult decision she had to live with danced behind her eyes. When had she lost track of herself? With every new burden she took on, every choice she made, she became less herself. Why had it taken Garrus pointing it out to her for her to notice?

It was too much for her, too much vulnerability. And even worse, she realized that she _wanted_ to be vulnerable with him, and that scared the hell out of her.

“Garrus, I’m...I’m not worth worrying over. I’m not worth having,” she said, and she resented every word. She had to say it, though. She cared for him too much to let him get involved with her. She’d come back from the dead, but she’d come back broken. He deserved someone softer, someone whole. She couldn’t give that to him.

He didn’t respond immediately. There was the soft hum of the ship, their laboured breathing. The silence clung to her like silk, smothering her gently. 

She wasn’t a coward. She opened her eyes, forced herself to look at him.

“Is that what you think?” he asked, and she was startled to hear anger in his voice, to see sorrow in his eyes.

“Yes,” she said. She’d grown accustomed to self-reproach. Along with loneliness, it was her constant companion.

He lifted himself off of her and tugged her up with him, hard enough that she stumbled. He took her face in his hands and pulled her towards him. He was only a few inches taller than her, but he seemed to loom over her, consuming her field of vision.

“Do you have any idea,” he whispered, “how much it hurts to hear you say that?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, and she was, truly. But it was better that he have a little pain now than a lot of pain later. He’d likely hate her. She wouldn’t blame him, although she knew it would destroy her. But she’d been born into pain, she’d been shaped by it. What was one more heartbreak for a heart already shattered? 

“What do you want from me, Shepard?” The same words he’d spoken to her on the trip to meet Sidonis. The same desperation, frustration with her. She’d thought she was going to lose him, then. What was one more heartbreak?

The look in his eyes was weakening her resolve. She felt herself leaning into the warm touch of his hands on her face. She was hovering over an abyss, and every moment that she stayed next to him was another step forward.

“I--” she began, but no other words came. His eyes searched hers. She wished that she knew what he saw there. After a moment, he reluctantly let go of her and turned to leave. She instinctively grabbed his arm. He tensed, but he turned back to her.

“Please,” she rasped, and it was a prayer. 

“Please what, Shepard?” _What do you want from me?_ Oh, would it be so terrible to let herself have what she wanted? Just once?

“Kiss me,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. It was likely a mistake, a weakness on her part. They would come to regret it, she knew. But she couldn’t bear the sight of him walking away from her, not again. She heard him exhale slowly. And then gently, reverentially, he slid one hand behind her head and the other around her waist, and dipped his head to meet her.

She wasn’t certain what she had expected kissing Garrus to be like. Well, that was a lie, she’d spent a good deal of time speculating on what kissing Garrus would be like. Whatever she’d imagined, it hadn’t been this. His mouth plates were oddly leathery, his mandibles pressing in on her face. There were a few, breathless moments before they got the hang of it.

“We’re not done talking about this, Shepard,” he whispered against her lips.

“I know,” she said, and then she bit down on his neck, hard, and he inhaled sharply. She’d been doing some research of her own.

…

“Garrus, I’m...I’m not worth worrying over. I’m not worth having,” she said to him, her eyes closed. Damn her, she probably believed it too. But there was something else there that he recognized. After Sidonis, he’d wanted to push her away, his every word calculated to hurt. She was doing the same to him now. Damn it, it figured that he’d fallen in love with a woman who had even more hang ups than he did.

“Is that what you think?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, without hesitation, and damn if that didn’t just stab him through the fucking heart. He stood and pulled her up with him. He wanted to wrap his arms around her. He wanted to wind his hands through her hair, to find out if it was as soft as it looked. But he kept his hands firmly on either side of her face. He wouldn’t take anything from her that she wouldn’t willingly give. But that didn’t mean he’d let her go without a fight, not when he was so close.

“Do you have any idea,” he whispered, “how much it hurts to hear you say that?” He knew that she did, he could see it written on her face. She knew that she was hurting him. She thought that if she hurt him enough, he’d give up and leave. He wished they’d met sooner, before the world had done to them what the world had done. 

“What do you want from me, Shepard?” He’d meant to say it gently, but it came out sharper than he’d intended. What he wanted to say was _I love you_ , but he held his tongue. Oh, spirits, he wished she would say something, anything. He waited, hoping. But she kept her mouth shut, and he let his hands drop away from her. Well, if she didn’t want to talk, he wouldn’t force her to. He moved to leave.

At first he thought he was imagining her grip on her arm. Wishful thinking.

“Please,” she whispered, and he definitely wasn’t imagining _that_. He turned back to look at her. Her voice was low, and so hoarse. Oh, he wanted to hold her. 

“Please what, Shepard?”

“Kiss me,” she said, and who was he to refuse her? If this were a romantic comedy, there would be a swell of music around them, and possibly fireworks.

He’d spent a _lot_ of time imagining what kissing Shepard would be like, mostly at 2am when he woke from particularly visceral dreams. He had even taken the time to research turian/human...activities. Even so, he wasn’t prepared for how delightfully soft she was. His fingers twined in her hair, his hands wrapped around her waist. Her lips, cherry-red. For a woman carved of iron and steel, she was breathtakingly soft. 

“We’re not done talking about this, Shepard,” he whispered against her lips.

“I know,” she said, and she bit the sensitive skin on his neck, and spirits where the hell had she learned about _that_ bit of turian physiology? Had she been thinking about this as much as he had? Oh, _spirits_.

When they finally broke apart he rested his forehead against hers, their arms still around one another, breathing heavily.

“Shepard--” he began.

“Garrus,” she breathed, “I know you want to talk, but please. Please, just give me some time.”

“All the time you need,” he whispered. _Anything you need. I love you._ He didn’t say it. She exhaled slowly, and looked up into his eyes, smiling wryly.

“When it's just us, you can call me Joan,” she added. Silence like silk, and then:

“Your name is _Joan??_ ”


	16. Schisms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper IFF, and Legion: A House Divided

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I commissioned [tropicoola](https://tropicoola.tumblr.com/) on tumblr to [draw Joan](https://tropicoola.tumblr.com/post/624855595925815296/finished-commission-of-a-mass-effect-oc) and it turned out so amazing!!

For a woman famed for her self control, Shepard was doing a real shit job of controlling herself. One kiss became another, and then another. Heart stumbling, face flushed, she pulled back. She couldn’t bear to move away completely, though, her hands still resting on Garrus’ face, his chest. She was rapidly discovering that she wanted to be held, that she wanted to feel soft. She was walking a razor thin tightrope, and the way ahead was dark. Oh, she should leave.

 _We’re not done talking about this, Shepard._ But she couldn’t face that, not yet. She grabbed hold of another thread of conversation, something safer. _Your name is Joan??_

“Did you...did you not think I had a first name?” she asked breathlessly.

“We uh, well. Back on the SR1 we had a betting pool on what your name was. I think I owe Liara 100 credits,” he said sheepishly.

“What did you think it was?” she asked.

“My money was on Jane,” he said.

“Jane? Really?”

“Hey, it’s a common human name! How was I supposed to know?”

“Garrus, you only needed to ask,” she said. He looked at her in disbelief.

“Now that I’m calling bullshit on, I don’t believe for a _minute_ you’d have just told us your name.”

“Why do you think Liara knew it?” 

“T’Soni asked you?? That’s cheating!” Oh, the look on his face was priceless. She steadfastly ignored the warm, fuzzy feeling in her chest.

“Take it up with her,” she suggested.

“She’s the Shadow Broker now, Shepard, I don’t have a death wish.”

“Awww, are you scared?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“I’m telling her you said that.”

“Don’t you dare,” he growled, and her heart skipped.

“Oh? You gonna stop me, Garrus?” she arched an eyebrow and stepped back, falling into a defensive position. She felt too light, too bright. Happiness like this never came without a crash.

“Try me, Joan.” And oh, how long had it been since someone had called her by her name? It made her heart flutter. It also made her drop her guard, meaning that a punch she should’ve easily avoided ended up giving her a sizable bruise to the jaw. And then Garrus, the smug bastard, asked if he could kiss it better.

“Promises, promises, Vakarian.”

Her good mood didn’t last very long, and by the time they reached the derelict Reaper it had completely evaporated. It was quiet on the ship, eerily so. Even Joker’s usual quips were subdued. Shepard couldn’t blame him. The atmosphere felt off, even in the space field around the Reaper. The air was oddly greasy, leaving a film in her throat that made it feel like she was permanently on the verge of choking. The hair on her arms and on the back of her neck crackled with electricity. 

“Shit, this place gives me the creeps,” Jack said. 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Garrus replied, “but I agree with you.”

“Hey, Garrus?” Jack said. 

“Yes, Jack?”

“Fuck you.”

“No, thanks. I have standards,” he said primly.

“Oh yeah, and what are those standards then? Tall as a skyscraper, red hair, massive stick up the ass?” Jack taunted. Damn it, did the whole crew know? _Shit._ Shepard deflected with practiced ease. 

“Tall as a skyscraper, stick up the ass? Garrus, I didn’t know you had a thing for Wrex,” she said dryly. 

“Oh? Oh, yes,” he said easily, “Wrex and I are planning to run away together. We were thinking of a spring wedding. Jack, would you be the flower girl?”

“I’ll tell you where you can stick your flowers, bird-brain--”

Truth be told, Shepard had mostly brought Jack and Garrus along because she could depend on them to bicker; it more or less had the effect of a white noise machine, and she badly needed a distraction. She had a reputation for being cool and capable under pressure, but there was something about the ship that got under her skin. Probably all the husks.

Joan Shepard wasn’t a coward, but husks made her skin crawl, even back on Eden Prime. Maybe it was the way they moved; mindlessly racing into her personal space, teeth-first. Nothing activated her fight or flight response quite like being surrounded by a horde of distorted human remains, biting at her. She was a ranged fighter at heart, most comfortable when she was on a raised platform far back from the main action. So when she felt a husk clawing at her shoulder, she slipped into her tactical cloak and booked it back the way they’d come until she had some breathing room

Bringing Jack along to fight the husks was hands-down one of the best choices she’d ever made. There was something deeply comforting to Shepard about watching a shockwave send a half dozen husks and abominations flying. She made a note to bring her along to every trip to fight the collectors. Shepard scanned the room for any other incoming threats, and she saw Garrus go down beneath a swarm of husks.

Her heart jumped to her throat. _Damn it damn it damn it._ She grabbed a piece of scrap metal from the ground and placed it in front of herself like a shield. Hiding behind it, she ran forward at speed, mowing down the husks like bowling pins. Once she’d reached Garrus, she threw the metal at a few of the husks around him, sending them flying back.

“Jack, now!” she shouted. She heard the thunderous roar of the shockwave coming towards them, and she unceremoniously hauled Garrus out of the way. She ripped open a medi-gel with her teeth and applied it to his wounds. His eyes fluttered open and he coughed weakly.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” he joked. 

“We just got here, Vakarian, stop wasting all the medi-gel,” she rasped. She helped him to his feet, her hands lingering on him just a moment longer than necessary.

A shot rained down from above, hitting a few husks behind them before Shepard even realized they were there. She glanced up to look at her rescuer, and was surprised to see a geth. It wasn’t every day you were saved by the AI that had spent years trying to kill you, after all.

“Shepard-Commander,” they said.

“This shit just keeps getting weirder,” Jack complained.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but a friendly geth isn’t the weirdest thing we’ve seen today,” Garrus said. 

“Eyes up, you two, we got enemies incoming, and I don’t want to have to scrape you off the floor again,” Shepard replied. She watched Garrus move behind cover and tsked under her breath. She chucked a grenade at a group of husks.

“Oi, Vakarian,” she said, “you don’t need to be in cover against melee fighters.”

“Shepard, remind me who got knocked out by a scion last time?” he returned.

“You see any scions around? You wanna get swarmed by husks again, be my guest. Just don’t expect me to save your ass _again_ ,” she said dryly.

“C’mon Shepard, you love my ass,” he said. Shepard snorted derisively, and Jack pretended to throw up.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Vakarian, you’re not worth wading through husks for,” Shepard lied neatly.

“Ouch, I’m wounded.”

“You will be, yeah,” she said nonchalantly. Garrus opened his mouth to reply, but the encroaching group of abominations halted whatever he was planning to say. They battled their way forward until they finally reached the IFF. 

“Is that it?” Jack asked. “Just a hunk of junk?”

“Looks like it,” Shepard said, “let’s get out of here.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Garrus said. They moved through the door ahead of them, into the core of the ship. There was a metal walkway, with a ramp on the left and right sides. The friendly geth they’d seen earlier was at a control panel near the core. 

The door clanged shut behind them, and the geth fell. They were trapped in a room with husks and abominations pouring in from every side. Shepard swore loudly, and with feeling.

“You okay there?” Garrus asked.

“Never better,” she replied through gritted teeth. She hauled out her Locust and opened fire, but the husks kept on coming. Jack and Garrus both charged forward down the left ramp, leaving Shepard unprotected. Damn it, she was a ranged fighter. A dozen husks came charging up the right ramp, closing in before she could shoot them all. She felt hands clawing at her, teeth chewing through her armour. 

The gospel of the Tenth Street Reds; hit 'em low and hit ‘em fast, and kick 'em while they're down. Adrenaline rushed through her body. She holstered her Locust and grabbed hold of the husk clawing at her back. She flipped it bodily across the room, sending it crashing through two others. Another one came at her, biting through her armour. She swept its legs out from under it. She picked it up and threw it on the top of the right ramp, blocking the progress of the rest of the husks. She pulled the pin out of a grenade and chucked it at the husks that were trying to claw their way up the ramp. The resulting explosion brought Garrus and Jack running back to her.

“Shepard, you okay?” Garrus yelled.

“Peachy,” she said, chest heaving. “Remind me why I brought you two with me?”

“My ass?” Garrus suggested, concern betraying his upbeat tone.

“Garrus’ ass,” Jack agreed. Shepard might have laughed if she didn’t still feel phantom claws tearing at her throat.

When they were clear for a moment, Shepard hauled out her Widow and aimed a shot at the core, following it up with a blast of incendiary energy. It wasn’t enough to destroy the core completely, and they were greeted with another round of husks and abominations. Lovely.

Finally, _finally_ , the last husk fell and the core exploded. Shepard booked it over to the control panel to the fallen geth. An actual intact geth. Oh, Tali was not going to be happy. But as Shepard stared down at their wrecked body, she knew she couldn’t leave them behind. They had helped her. More importantly, they’d kept the husks off her, and that alone was worth its weight in credits. Maybe, just this once, doing the right thing wouldn’t come back to bite her in the ass. She doubted it, but stranger things had happened.

“Are you sure activating a geth is a good idea, commander?” Jacob asked, in a voice that very clearly suggested that he didn’t think it was a good idea. Damn it, what was the point of being a galactic hero if everyone questioned your every decision? It was like talking to the council all over again. _You’ve released the rachni on the galaxy, commander, I hope you’re happy._ Shepard could feel the beginnings of a headache brewing at her temples, and phantom claws on her skin.

“Got a better idea, Taylor?” she asked. 

“If it were up to me, I’d just eject it into space,” he said. 

“Well, regrettably it’s not up to you,” she replied, “and I want to know why they helped me.” She turned on her heel and headed for the AI Core. As the doors shut behind her, she inhaled deeply and leaned heavily against the wall.

“EDI, are we clear?” she asked.

“I have installed additional firewalls, and have erected a barrier around the geth,” EDI replied, her disembodied voice ringing through the small room. Shepard nodded. 

“Wake them up,” she said. A moment later, the geth stirred. They rose, their movements simultaneously fluid and disjointed, until they were up against the barrier.

“Shepard-Commander,” they said.

“Have we met?” Shepard asked.

“No, but we know of you.”

“We?” she asked. The geth explained how their people worked, how they shared a collective conscience, and how a splinter group — the heretics — had left some time ago. Apparently, those were the geth that Shepard had fought previously. Against her better judgement, Shepard found that she believed them. The world had made her bitter and jaded, but her faith in other people still remained. 

“What should I call you?” she asked.

“We are geth,” the geth said.

“Yes, but you specifically, the unit standing in front of me,” she said.

“We are geth.”

“‘My name is Legion, for we are many,’” EDI quoted. The geth cocked their head to the side.

“Human bible, Mark 5:9. Appropriate. Acceptable,” they said. 

“Alright Legion,” Shepard said, holding out her hand, “welcome aboard.”

“We have physically been on this ship for some time, Shepard-Commander, we were already aboard,” Legion said, carefully shaking her hand. Shepard barked a laugh.

“Touché,” she said. 

“There is one other thing, Shepard-Commander,” Legion said. 

“There always is. What’s the problem?”

“There is a heretic base that must be destroyed.”

Which was how Shepard ended up sneaking onto a geth base, with Legion and Garrus in tow. The plan was to destroy the base, but when had a plan ever been that easy? Legion informed her that there was the possibility to rewrite the heretics, something that would allow them to rejoin the other geth.

“Brainwashing? I wouldn’t do that to organics, so I’m not doing it to you,” she said sharply.

“It is not the same for us, Shepard-Commander, and the other option is complete destruction.”

“Why are you leaving it up to me?” Shepard asked.

“We are unable to reach a decision on our own, Shepard-Commander,” Legion replied. Shepard’s hands were gloved, and so she bit down on the inside of her cheek hard enough to taste blood. Another choice left to her, another tally on the blackboard. 

Shepard had tried death. She’d never admit it out loud, but it had been far preferable to life. Who was she to say that brainwashing was preferable? She certainly didn’t believe that. But her blackboard was getting too full, and she was tired of being the judge, jury, and executioner. She’d had enough death for one day.

“Rewrite them,” she said, and she hoped like hell that she was making the right choice. 

“Understood,” Legion said, in its monotone voice. “The resulting electromagnetic pulse will damage unshielded organic tissue. This station is unshielded.”

“Gee, that sure would’ve been _nice to know earlier_ ,” Garrus complained.

“How long until the pulse goes?” Shepard asked.

“T-minus 3 minutes and counting,” Legion replied calmly. “Evacuation recommended.”

“Yeah, no _shit,_ ” Garrus snapped, but Shepard had already started running. The door in front of them opened and a hail of ammo rained down on them from the geth in the corridor. Shepard slid in behind cover, hacking one of the geth, and shouting at Legion to do the same. Rounding the next corner, she caught sight of the airlock. Standing in front of it was a platoon of geth, and a geth prime. Oh, she was so very tired of killing.

“Alright folks,” she said, “book it.” She activated her tactical cloak and ran hell for leather towards the airlock. Once there, still invisible, she laid down some gunfire to cover Garrus and Legion’s retreat. She slammed the button on the airlock, and they were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the Suicide Mission, so real quick disclaimer that I'm not planning to write any smut for this fic, so my apologies if you were hoping for that!


	17. Sword of Damocles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm, the night before the suicide mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did somebody say...soft??? Soft romance????

_With a steady stony glance—_

_Like some bold seer in a trance,_

_Beholding all his own mischance,_

_Mute, with a glassy countenance—_

_She look'd down to Camelot._

_It was the closing of the day:_

_She loos'd the chain, and down she lay;_

_The broad stream bore her far away,_

_The Lady of Shalott._

-The Lady of Shalott, Tennyson

The collectors had taken her crew. The abduction of the human colonists was horrific, but it was too big, the loss was intangible. The silent hallways of the Normandy, though, were breathtakingly tangible. There was no Dr. Chakwas quietly asking her to be more careful, no Kelly blushing every time she spoke to her. The collectors had made it personal. Shepard didn’t take pleasure in killing, but she could make an exception, just this once. 

They would be arriving at the Omega 4 Relay in a handful of hours. The words lay unspoken, but the others were expecting it to be a one way trip. Privately, she agreed.

Shepard didn't fear death, not really. There were certainly worse ways to go out than saving the galaxy. And if she was going down, she was going down swinging. But there were things she needed to do, first.

She keyed a familiar number into her computer. It rang a few times before it picked up. The screen flickered on, and a young woman appeared. Pin-straight black hair going prematurely grey, crows feet stamped on too-young eyes: Marie.

“Jeanne? What’s going on?” she said. Shepard smiled softly. Marie was the only person who called her that, the only memory of who she'd once been.

“It’s good to hear your voice,” she said.

“It’s good to hear from you too, Jeanne. Don’t think I don’t notice you avoiding the question,” Marie replied, her voice long-suffering. 

“You never miss a thing, do you?”

“Never. And you still aren’t answering.”

“Tell me about you and I’ll tell you about me,” Shepard hedged. Marie pursed her lips, but she nodded.

“I’ve been helping Anderson when I can. You know he hates politics, so I go to the meetings, take notes, let him know what he needs to know,” she said.

“How’s he doing?” Shepard asked.

“Oh, you know Anderson. Takes on too much, pushes himself too hard. Sound familiar?”

“Hmm. Touché.”

“Now you, Jeanne. What’s going on?”

“I’m going through the Omega 4 Relay,” Shepard said.

“I know,” Marie replied. Shepard's eyebrows shot up her forehead.

“You know? How?”

“I’ve been working with Anderson, remember? I just wanted to see if you’d try to protect me from the truth.”

“I would never lie to you,” Shepard said softly. 

“Not intentionally,” Marie said, and there was no resentment there, only love. “Are you okay?”

“Truthfully?” Shepard exhaled slowly and rubbed at her temples. “No.”

“You’ll make it through, you always do.”

“Not always.” Shepard winced, remembering the feeling of her suit rupturing.

“Jeanne, please. I understand that you need to do this, but you promised me you’d come back. I’m holding you to that. Alright?” It felt like an order. Shepard cracked a smile. 

“You know, you’d make an excellent officer.”

“So Anderson keeps saying. That’s not an answer, Jeanne.”

“I keep my promises, Marie. I’ll come back.”

“Good,” Marie said. “Now tell me, how have you really been?”

“It’s...complicated,” Shepard admitted.

“It always is, with you.” For the first time, Marie smiled: a lop-sided grin that made her look years younger.

“Hey now, that's...that's fair, actually,” Shepard conceded.

“What's complicated, exactly?”

“Garrus is in love with me.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them. It was the first time she'd said them out loud.

“Yes, and?”

“What do you mean, 'yes and?' I'm laying my heart bare over here!” Shepard could feel heat searing across her face. Marie rolled her eyes, and for a moment she almost looked her age.

“I've heard you talk about him, Jeanne. I figured it out weeks ago.”

“Well gee, Marie, thanks for sharing. You know I’ve never been very good at feelings.”

“You? Emotionally stunted? Perish the thought,” Marie said wryly.

“I just...I feel like I'm losing myself,” Shepard said, her voice low. Why would Garrus want a heart so broken, so bloody? She didn’t know who she was anymore.

Marie was quiet for a while. “What are you going to do when this is over?”

“Turn myself in to the Alliance," Shepard replied. She had debts to pay, crimes to atone for. Families to contact.

“Then I'm going with you.”

“What? No, you're needed on the Citadel.”

“Try and stop me, Jeanne.” Marie's jaw was set, her eyes hard. “I'm not going to let you do it alone. Not again.”

“I love you,” Joan said, the first time she'd said it since her resurrection.

“I love you, too. Don't spend the next few hours alone, Jeanne.”

“What, don't you want to talk to me?” Joan asked, offended. Marie laughed, like wind chimes in the summer breeze.

“I suspect there's someone who wants to talk to you more.”

...

Shepard had asked him to join her before they went through the relay. He thought he knew what that meant. He hoped he knew what that meant. He fiddled with the buckles on his outfit. Probably too fancy. Should he change? No, no time. Especially not for turian clothes.

The corridors were silent, and his footsteps echoed uncomfortably in his ears. No soldiers in the mess hall bickering with the cook. Tentatively, he pressed the elevator button for the top floor. The Captain’s Cabin. 

He didn’t know what to do with his hands, and so he clutched the wine he’d brought like a lifeline. When her door opened, he rushed over to the wall to play some music. He’d heard that that was the thing to do. Peppy club music filled the room. She laughed softly, turned it off, and gently removed his hands from the music player. 

“Sorry, I’m a little nervous,” he blurted.

“I’d never have guessed,” she said lightly.

“I’ve just seen so many things go wrong, Shepard-- Joan. I just want something to go right, just once.” He was stuttering, his voice barely above a whisper. She pulled him close, and rested her head against his.

“Just stay with me,” she said. It wasn’t what he’d expected, to say the least, but he didn’t mind. Whatever she needed from him he’d willingly give. They sat down on the small couch. Not the bed, no, there were too many expectations wrapped up in the bed. He was still holding her hand.

“Are you okay?” he asked. She hummed noncommittally and winced.

“Not really,” she said.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“It's kind of you to offer, but you don't want to hear me complain about my problems.”

“Try me.”

She studied him, and spirits, he could spend a thousand years looking at her and it still wouldn't be enough. She exhaled heavily, her shoulders slumping. “I let them down, Garrus,” she whispered, her voice as brittle as glass.

“This isn’t your fault, Shepard.”

“Did you believe that when I said it to you?” Ah, ouch.

“No, I suppose not.”

“So then why say it to me?” she asked sharply. She tried to move away, but he caught her chin and made her look at him.

“Joan,” he rasped, “we’re going to get them back.”

“How do you know?” she whispered.

“I’ve seen what you’re capable of. The collectors don’t stand a chance against you.” There was reverence in his voice. He’d never been a particularly religious turian, but oh, he believed in her. He felt her lean into his touch and his heart stuttered.

“Will you…will you hold me?” she asked. He nodded, not trusting his voice, and she shuffled closer. Her head came to rest on his shoulder. Tentatively, he ran his fingers through her hair. He'd never seen it down before. It was like silk against his hands. She hummed softly and shut her eyes. 

“What are you planning to do after this?” she asked softly. His hands stilled in her hair momentarily, before resuming.

“I haven't seen my family in a while, maybe I'll head back to Palaven. While I'm there, maybe if I complain enough they'll do something about the Reapers.”

Shepard snorted. “Sure, and maybe the quarians and the geth will finally get along.”

“Hey, strangers things have happened.”

“True enough. If you asked me a few months ago what I thought I'd be doing the night before the big battle, I wouldn't have said this.”

“And now that you're here, any regrets?”

“There are always regrets, Garrus. But not about this.” Turians didn't blush, but spirits he would've if he was able to. He awkwardly cleared his throat and shifted a bit.

“Ah, well, that's a relief. Would've been really awkward otherwise," he said.

“And you, any regrets?” Her voice was so soft he almost didn't hear it.

“In the arms of a beautiful woman, about to save the galaxy? I'd say I'm doing pretty well.”

“Flatterer,” she said, ducking her head.

He'd never seen her so open before. He was accustomed to a tempest, to a stone-carved statue, to a saint. There were times she was more an ideal than a person. But not here, not now. Now she was just Joan. He felt a kind of pride stirring; no one else got to see her like this, just him. He combed his fingers through her hair, and they fell into a warm, companionable silence. He realized that he wanted to spend the rest of his life, just like this, with her.

At some point, she'd slung her legs across his lap, her arms wrapped around him. He could've sworn he heard faint snoring. He held her close. The words were on the tip of his tongue, _I love you_ , but he didn't say them. He knew her too well to expect her to say it back to him, even as vulnerable as she was.

Well, he wasn’t in any kind of rush. He’d always been impatient, but Shepard, oh, he could wait a lifetime for Shepard. He had complete and utter faith that they were going to make it out alive. If even death hadn’t stopped her, then the collectors didn’t have a hope in hell. It was just a question of what was going to happen after. Sooner or later, the galaxy would wake up, and they’d ask for her help again and again. And he’d just need to be sure he was there when they did.

“Commander, we’re arriving in half an hour. The crew is assembling in the comm room,” Joker said, his voice ringing over the comms. Shepard stirred, groggily struggling to rise. Garrus tugged her back, flush against him.

“Garrus, we have to get ready,” she protested, stifling a yawn.

“Please?” Oh, spirits, did he have to sound so plaintive? She smiled softly. The calm, collected mask of Commander Shepard hadn’t come back yet. It was still Joan, her hair tumbling down around her, her eyes still unfocused from sleep. She slung her arms around his shoulders, nestled her face in his neck, and straddled him.

“Oh, well, we don’t have time for _that,_ ” he said hastily. She chuckled, warm breath fanning across his neck. 

“Another time, then,” she said, and this time she did stand. She held out a hand to him, and she pulled him up. 

“I should, um, go get my gear ready,” he said. She nodded. She didn’t let go of his hand. She tugged him forward and wrapped her arms around him, and he felt his heart beating uncomfortably fast. He pulled her tight against him, and he buried his face in her hair. Well, he tried to, but the mandibles got tangled. She carefully extricated herself and stepped backwards.

“Good luck, Garrus,” she said quietly. He reached out and cradled her face in his hands. Gently, reverentially, he kissed her.

“I don’t need luck,” he whispered against her lips, “I have you.” He heard her inhale sharply, felt her step back, and so he wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her deeply. Her face was flushed when she broke away, almost feverish.

“I need to get my armour on before I talk to the others,” she said. Reluctantly, he let go of her. 

“I’ll see you soon, Joan,” he said, and he left.

…

Shepard couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so well. Probably never. More often than not, she ended up asleep on the floor. The bed was too soft, too comfortable; it made her nervous. But wrapped in Garrus’ arms, her head against his chest, she slept like a rock. She didn’t have nightmares, which was a novelty in and of itself. She felt warm, cozy. More than that, she felt safe. 

She was woken by Joker’s voice over the comms, and she groggily opened her eyes. When she tried to pull herself away, Garrus tugged her back.

“Garrus, we have to get ready,” she mumbled.

“Please?” he said. She smiled softly. She realized with a start that she’d be happy to spend the rest of her life waking up like this. She was still sleepy enough that she didn’t bolt away from that thought. Instead, she slung her arms around his shoulders, nestled her face in his neck, and straddled him.

“Oh, well, we don’t have time for _that,_ ” he said hastily. She chuckled, and pressed a kiss against his neck. 

“Another time, then,” she said, and this time she did stand. She held out a hand to him, and she pulled him up. 

“I should, um, go get my gear ready,” he said. She nodded, but she wasn’t ready to let him go yet. She tugged him forward and wrapped her arms around him. She felt a gentle, and then not so gentle tugging on her hair as his mandibles got tangled. She carefully extricated herself and stepped backwards.

A thousand words crowded in her mouth, begging to be said. _I like you. I care about you. Do you really love me? Do you think we’ll make it out of this?_ She didn’t say them.

“Good luck, Garrus,” she said instead, and he kissed her.

“I don’t need luck,” he whispered against her lips, “I have you.” It caught her off guard, like a punch to the jaw. Too much, too many expectations. The more people believed in you the more disappointed they’d be if (when) you let them down. She backpedaled, moving away from him, but he wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her deeply. She broke away first, her face uncomfortably hot.

“I need to get my armour on before I talk to the others,” she said, avoiding his eyes. Reluctantly, he let go of her, and she cursed herself for a fool. Trust her to run away, like she always did.

“I’ll see you soon, Joan,” he said, and he left. As the door shut behind him, Shepard stumbled over to her dresser. She pulled out the cool glass, and she rested it against her forehead for a moment, breathing deeply. She could already hear Marie scolding her. She reminded herself that she needed to live long enough to see Marie again. She needed to survive, because she wanted to wake up next to Garrus, again and again. She squared her shoulders, and braided back her hair. She had an appointment with destiny.


	18. Going Down Swinging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Suicide Mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter did NOT want to be written, I've been fighting with it for the past two weeks.

_I'm never giving in_  
 _I'm never quittin'_  
 _Because my history is still being written_  
 _Don't tell me what I can and cannot do_  
 _I'd hate to have to make a fool out of you_  
-Gonna Be A Legend, The Phantoms

Shepard strode down the halls of the ship, each step echoing. She could hear Joker and Miranda arguing on the bridge.

“Joker,” she called, “what’s the word?”

“It’s not looking great, commander, I’ll tell you that for free,” he said. His hands were flying across the control panel, and Miranda was hovering nearby, arms crossed.

“We all knew the risks going in,” Miranda said. 

“Maybe so, but I plan on living through this one,” Shepard said, resting her hand on the back of Joker’s chair. “Last time I died, people kept getting it wrong.”

“Glad you’re the one in charge, commander,” Joker said fervently.

“Can I get that in writing?” she asked. Joker laughed, but there was a nervous edge to it. She patted him gently on the back.

“Relax, Joker,” she said. “We didn’t spend hundreds of hours collecting resources for ship upgrades just to fail now.”

“And here I thought you just wanted to launch probes at Uranus,” he said.

“Y’know, maybe we _should_ have EDI pilot the ship.”

“Hey now! I was only kidding, commander.” The nerves in his voice had faded, ever so slightly. Good.

“You’ll get us through,” she said.

“Okay, _mom._ ”

“Shut up and fly the ship, Moreau.”

The trip through the Omega 4 was like nothing Shepard had ever experienced before, even when she’d driven the Mako through a mass relay. They almost immediately collided with an abandoned ship, missing it by inches. The Normandy swerved from side to side, and Shepard felt a flicker of sympathy for how the crew felt when she was behind the wheel. There were a few shuddering collisions, but the upgrades did their job. They were going to make it through. And then, because things had a habit of going wrong, something crashed into the breached hull of the ship. Over the comms, Shepard told Thane and Garrus to follow her, and they made their way down to the bottom floor to investigate. 

The elevator doors creaked open and a beam of destructive light came scorching towards Shepard. A large, circular robot was flying around the room, wreaking mad havoc on the supplies. 

“Once again, Shepard, you never take us anywhere nice,” Garrus complained. For the first time, she wondered if the banter was his way of checking that she was alright. A thought for another time, when she wasn’t in immediate danger of being fried.

“Once again, Vakarian, you volunteered to come,” she said. The oculus came barrelling at her, and she threw herself to the left, tucking herself into a somersault. When she rose to her feet, the oculus spun around and came at her again. She let out an exasperated sigh. “Why is it that these things only ever target me??”

“Must be your loud mouth,” Garrus said. 

“We’ll need heavy artillery to take it out,” Thane commented, barely breaking a sweat.

“Thank you, gentlemen, for being absolutely no help at all.”

"That's what we're here for. DUCK!” Garrus shouted, and Shepard instinctively fell to the ground as the oculus soared past, missing her by inches. She swore colourfully and finally hauled out the big guns, releasing a hail of heavy artillery on the oculus. It swooped out of the open hull of the ship, disappearing for a moment.

“I suspect we haven’t seen the last of it,” Thane said. 

“Damn it, now you’re just asking for it to come back,” Garrus said. He was right.

It was quiet in the briefing room, an expectant, deafening silence. This was the kind of attention that Shepard was accustomed to; every eye on her, waiting for their orders. It was the quiet of people who were making peace with death. She'd heard it during the Skyllian Blitz, and then on Feros, Noveria, Virmire, places too numerous to mention. She heard singing, feather-light. She dug her nails into her palms, wrapped the pain around herself like a cloak.

“Alright EDI, what are we looking at here?” she asked, resting her hands on the table and leaning forward.

“The weakest point in the collector’s base is here," EDI highlighted a portion of the map and enlarged it, “the main control centre of the station. This is also likely where the Normandy crew is being held.”

“There’s no goddamn way we’re just waltzing in there,” Zaeed said.

“Have a little faith, Massani,” Shepard said.

“Faith’s alright for some, but thermal clips are better,” Zaeed replied.

“Looks like there are two main routes. Might be a good idea to split up to keep the collectors off balance, then regroup in the central chamber,” Jacob suggested.

“No good, both are blocked,” Miranda said. “The only way past is through these doors.” 

Shepard considered the layout for a moment. “EDI, can you enlarge that ventilation shaft?”

“Yes, commander.”

“We could send someone through there to dismantle the door,” Shepard said thoughtfully.

“Practically a suicide mission. I volunteer,” Jacob said. Miranda tsked.

“With all due respect, Jacob, we’re going to need a tech expert for this,” she said. Shepard nodded. 

“Legion, you’re on deck,” she said. The geth stepped forward, performing an approximation of a salute. 

“Acknowledged,” they said. 

“But be careful, okay?”

“Understood, Shepard-Commander.”

“Miranda, you lead the other team. Keep them off us as much as you can.”

“Yes commander,” Miranda said. Another death-defying mission with Shepard at the helm. She was getting too old for this.

“This isn’t going to be easy,” Shepard began. Visions of colonies abducted, planets destroyed, danced in front of her eyes. “We’ve lost a lot of good people. This ends here, and this ends now. But you listen to me now, you better make damn sure you make it out of there alive. Are we clear?”

“We’ll tear them to pieces!” Grunt roared. Shepard smiled grimly.

“That’s the spirit,” she said. “Alright everyone, move out.”

…

“You better make damn sure you make it out of there alive. Are we clear?” Shepard said, and her eyes blazed like a pyre.

Garrus’ impression of Shepard over the past few months had been of a woman intent on racing back into the arms of death. She’d been reckless in battle, had spoken of the final mission like a ticking clock counting down to her death. That was all gone, now. Now, as they exited the Normandy and moved into the collector base, she was calm, assured. She was planning to survive. Something had changed.

Something had changed, and recently. Maybe even within the last few hours. The thought made him more than a little light-headed. There wasn’t time to talk about it, and he knew she wouldn’t want to. But as they moved through the collector base, she checked in the other teams constantly. When Legion said that they were having difficulty, she raced to the valves that would let them continue. She led the charge, always making sure that he and Kasumi were well defended. 

She’d always been protective, but this was something new; as much as she was protecting him and Kasumi, she was also falling back, staying in cover. She was protecting herself. From a woman who had elevated self-sacrifice to an art form, it made for a pleasant change.

“Kasumi!” Shepard shouted. “If that dickhead says “assuming direct control” one more time, hit him with a flashbang grenade.”

“With pleasure,” Kasumi shouted back. 

“And Vakarian, it’s been ten minutes since you fell unconscious, that’s a new record!” Shepard called. 

“Come on, Shepard, that’s just tempting fate,” he yelled. She laughed, peaked over her cover, and took down harbinger with a single headshot. Damn it, that shouldn’t be hot, right? 

The door in front of them opened onto what looked to be the final room. He ducked down behind cover as Shepard faded from view. A few moments later, he saw the final valve shut off and the door to the main control area open. He and Kasumi booked it past the collectors as fast as they could. 

As the doors closed behind them, he turned to take in the room. There were tubes lining the walls, and there was a young woman beating against the glass of hers. Helplessly, he watched Shepard run forward to try to rescue her, but it was too late. Garrus moved forward, resting his hand on Shepard's back. Legion pressed a few buttons on the control panel and the rest of the tubes opened. The crew stumbled out, seemingly unharmed.

“They’re alive,” Garrus reassured her. Shepard exhaled shakily.

“Thank god,” she said. "I'd never have forgiven myself."

"I know," he said softly. Shepard gave his hand a quick squeeze, and then moved forward to check that her crew was alright.

...

Shepard had insisted that they leave to get the crew immediately; no excuses, no dallying. But she hadn’t allowed herself to hope that they’d find them alive. Too much hope was a dangerous thing. 

But they were alive, and they were in one piece. Better still, she hadn’t lost anyone in the initial fight through the base. As they planned the next stage of the journey, she allowed herself a glimmer of hope.

It ended, as most good things did, with goddamn husks.

Collectors were fine to fight, on the whole. Not ideal, obviously, but reasonably straightforward; strip their defences and they go down just like anything else. Husks though, husks featured in a number of Shepard’s nightmares. The scions that came along with them were something else altogether, with their huge, lumbering bodies and their shockwaves. As Shepard and the others pushed through the base in a seemingly endless walk, husks started running at them, full tilt. Shepard pushed Samara behind her and signaled for Jack to move ahead.

“Eat shit, assholes!” Jack shouted, releasing a shockwave.

“Yes, tactfully put, Jack,” Garrus said dryly, carefully lining up his shots. 

“Fuck you, bird-brain,” Jack yelled over her shoulder. 

“We’ve been over this,” Garrus replied, “I have standards.” Shepard rolled her eyes and aimed an incineration at the oncoming horde. A hulking figure appeared around the corner ahead of them, a haphazard collection of human bodies stacked atop one another.

“We’ve got a scion!” she shouted, and quickly ducked down behind cover. Her eyes darted over to Samara to check her barrier was still in place. Satisfied that Samara was safe, she lifted her head up and was almost knocked flat by the shockwave the scion had sent her way. Her hair crackled, sticking out from her head. Shepard heard Jack cackling. She flipped her off. 

“Why,” Shepard said through gritted teeth, “do these things _only aim at me?"_

“You’ve got the worst luck in the galaxy, Shepard,” Garrus said. He shot down a husk that was barrelling towards her. She glanced over her shoulder at him. A few months ago, she might have agreed with him. Not anymore. That thought was interrupted by a fresh group of abominations and husks crawling over the edges of the walkway. 

Inch by slow, torturous inch they pressed forward. Shepard kept one eye on the husks, and the other on Samara. The asari was pale, her face drawn. The pressure of maintaining such a large biotic barrier was wearing her down. 

“I cannot keep this up much longer, commander,” Samara said. Shepard nodded grimly and took out a husk that was climbing over the side of the walkway. 

“We’ll be out of here soon,” she said. _I hope_ , she added internally. As they crested the next ridge, they saw it; the exit. Samara started to run, stumbling down the sloped ramp that led to the giant doors. Shepard and the other two laid down cover fire, taking out any husks that got too close. In the space of a few breaths, as long as years, they arrived at the bottom. Miranda’s team came running from the other side, and they all made it through, the door clanging shut behind them. Samara fell against the doors, breathing heavily. Shepard moved to support her, slinging her arm around the asari’s waist. Samara leaned heavily on her.

“You alright?” Shepard asked quietly.

“There is no need for concern, I will be fine for the battle,” Samara replied. 

“Not what I asked,” Shepard said. Oh good lord, she sounded like Marie. Samara smiled weakly.

“I will be fine, commander, although I appreciate your concern,” she said. “And I believe I can walk on my own.”

“What, this? This is just an excuse to hold you, Samara,” Shepard said lightly, and it was worth it to hear Samara’s soft chuckle. Shepard gently let go of the justicar, checking to make sure that she could stand on her own. The others had gathered in the centre of the room, next to a platform. EDI explained that the platform would take them to the centre of the station, where they could blow it to high heaven. Shepard hauled herself up, her every muscle screaming at her. It had been a long day.

“Commander,” Miranda said, “they’re going to break down that door eventually.”

“Kasumi, Tali, you’re with me,” Shepard said. “Everyone else, keep them busy.” Her eyes flickered up to the door. It was still holding, for the moment. Zaeed scoffed.

“You’ve gotta be goddamn kidding me, a stiff breeze would knock those two over,” he said. 

“You have your orders, Massani. Do we have a problem?” Shepard asked. His answering grin bordered on feral.

“Not yet,” he said.

“Save it for the collectors. As for the rest of you, I know that it’s been a difficult journey to get here. Well, except for Grunt, he looks like he’s barely gotten a scratch,” she said wryly. Her face grew serious. “I won’t lie to you, this won’t be easy. Nothing worth doing ever is. But that’s never stopped us before. We’ve come this far, and it’s time to make it count. You’re a damn good crew; the best. When we get out of here, drinks are on me.” 

It was a tragedy, of sorts, that she was good at this, that she'd had so much practice giving speeches at the end of the world. Oh, it had been such a long day.

“Make me proud,” she said quietly. 

“It's been an honour, commander,” Miranda said.

“It's not over yet,” Shepard replied. “EDI, activate the platform.”

“Yes, commander,” EDI said. The platform shifted and started to lift off. Garrus moved forward.

“Shepard,” he said, “be careful out there.”

“Is that an order, Vakarian?” Shepard asked. 

“Does it have to be?” The platform was too far away now for her to respond. They flew through the air in silence, the wind whistling past them. Other platforms circled around them, laden with collectors. Shepard motioned for Kasumi and Tali to open fire.

“Light ‘em up,” she said.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Kasumi replied. 

The collectors had been building a human Reaper using the abducted colonists. Shepard felt viscerally sick, and blindingly angry as she shot it down, letting it drop into the abyss below. A call came through from the Illusive Man. It never rains but it pours.

“Well done, Shepard,” he said. 

“I didn’t do it for you,” she said.

“A find like this is unparalleled. Think of the good this knowledge could do. It’s possible to destroy the collectors while preserving the station.” The greed in his voice was palpable. It made her skin crawl.

“No,” she said.

“Shepard, be logical. We need every edge we can get against the Reapers,” he said. She looked at him, but she didn’t see him. She saw her gun pointed at Zaeed, at the hostage in Vasir’s arms. She saw Aratoht being destroyed, 300,000 deaths hanging heavy on her shoulders. She saw Garrus, his cool blue eyes.

“I won’t let fear compromise who I am,” she said. “This place is too dangerous to keep.”

“Shepard, you’re making a mistake--”

“Sorry, bad connection,” she said, and cut off the call. As she did, she felt the ground shudder beneath her. The human Reaper clawed its way up from the depths, aiming a beam of destructive light at Shepard. She dove for cover and hauled out her Widow. She aimed at the weak point in its eye, smiled grimly, and fired.


	19. Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The six months of house arrest on Earth. AKA Shepard finally goes to therapy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for implied self-harm and depression. There's not a lot, but I just want to make sure everyone is okay!

_I can't take it over and over_

_Dead weight hanging off of my shoulder_

_Nothing changes, I'm getting colder_

_Dead weight hanging off of my shoulders_

_Dead weight hanging off of my shoulders_

_If I start cracking at the centre, all this goes away_

_I’m staying numb to my feelings, dodge 'em like novocaine_

_My back is breaking from taking all of this dead weight_

_A-a-a-all give, no-no-no-no take_

-Dead Weight, PVRIS

They’d done it; they’d defeated the collectors, they’d all made it out alive. Shepard let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“Commander, The Illusive Man wishes to speak with you,” EDI said, as soon as Shepard stepped onto the Normandy.

“Good,” Shepard said grimly, “I’ve got something to say to him as well.”

The doors of the briefing room shut softly behind Shepard. She was still wearing her armour, dripping in blood, barely able to stand. The hologram of The Illusive Man flickered to life.

“Shepard, you’ve made a terrible mistake,” he said, pacing across the room. 

“That’s a matter of perspective.”

“I told you to save the station,” he snapped.

“If you wanted a lap dog, you resurrected the wrong woman,” she said. Her voice was calm, in contrast to his agitation. 

“Think of what we could’ve done with that station, Shepard,” he said. She regarded him coolly. 

“You asked me to save the colonists, not monopolize on their deaths.”

“It’s for the greater good.”

“Whose greater good? Yours?” She folded her arms. He jabbed a finger at her accusingly. If he was brave enough to meet her in person, he might have hit her. As it was, it phased through her.

“How _dare_ you. I do everything for the good of humanity, to advance us forward.”

“You can lie to yourself all you want, but don’t expect me to believe your bullshit.”

“I brought you back to life--”

“Did I ask you to?” Her voice was ice. “This conversation is over. I’m taking the ship, and I’m taking the crew, and if I never see you again it will be too soon. Put that in your damn cigarette and smoke it.”

“Don’t you turn your back on me, Shepard,” he said sharply. Shepard smiled, all teeth.

“EDI, lose this number," she said. She turned on her heel and left; a dismissal. Oh, that felt good. She’d wanted to do that for a long time.

Shepard decided that she’d earned herself a shower and a nap before she decided what to do next. She haphazardly removed her armour and chucked it on the floor; she could deal with it later. 

Having her own shower was a luxury Shepard had never expected. As a child she’d barely bathed at all, apart from the rain. In the N7 program, showers were scheduled, and were always communal. She turned the water as hot as she could, purely because she could. 

Her muscles screamed at her, her whole body felt like one big bruise. But she was alive. Her crew was alive. That mattered. She felt the hot water coursing through her hair, washing away the sweat, blood, and tears. Even facing the threat of indefinite house arrest with the Alliance, she still felt free. The panic hadn’t hit yet. After a few blessedly silent minutes, she stepped out of the shower and towelled off. For once, she let her hair air-dry rather than immediately braiding it back.

“Hello Mako,” she said softly as she passed his cage. She measured out his food and set it down in the cage for him. Happy hamster noises filled the cabin. She got dressed quickly, the habit of years, and sat down to write her report on the mission.

There was a knock at her door. Her traitorous heart fluttered against her ribcage, and she went to open it. Garrus, awkwardly shuffling from one foot to the other, was waiting on the other side.

Well, she’d just saved the galaxy, she could allow herself a moment of happiness. Shepard buried her head in his chest, her arms winding around him. She felt his hands carding through her hair. 

“We made it out alive. What a novel result,” she said, and she felt more than heard him chuckle, the subvocals vibrating through his chest.

“I didn’t doubt you for a second,” he said.

“Not even once?”

“Nope. Although I definitely doubted the others. Jack and Grunt in particular,” he said. She laughed and tightened her arms around him.

“I don’t know how long they’ll keep me locked up,” she said quietly. The words hung between them, souring the silence.

“You’ll be out of there in no time. The Council needs you too badly to give you a vacation,” he said lightly.

“Shepard to the rescue, huh?” she said. He chuckled again, but it was strained.

“It’s got such a nice ring to it.”

“Uh huh.” They stood like that for a long time, arms wrapped around each other, his hands in her hair. Too long, really. There were things to be done, farewells to be said.

“I should, um, go talk to the crew,” she mumbled.

“In a minute?” he asked. She’d just saved the galaxy. She could give herself this.

“Alright, in a minute,” she said. Goodbye hovered on her lips, unspoken. Perhaps if she didn't say it, it wouldn't be true.

The crew had gathered in the mess hall; it was one of the few places that had survived both the collector attack and the Omega 4 Relay mostly intact. Shepard stood on the stairs up to the Main Battery, every eye on her. She cleared her throat.

“It’s been an honour working with you all. I’d say don’t get into trouble, but I won’t waste my breath,” Shepard said. There was scattered laughter. “We’ll be doing a few drop offs; Ilium, Tuchanka, the Citadel, Palaven, The Migrant Fleet. If there’s somewhere specific you want us to take you, let Joker know.”

“What if we want to stay on the ship?” Kelly asked. Shepard winced.

“The Normandy and I are going to be grounded on Earth for the foreseeable future. We can help you find other work if need be, but in a few days the Normandy is going to be out of commission,” she said. 

“Unless I kidnap you and commandeer the ship,” Kasumi said thoughtfully. 

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Shepard said wryly. “But I appreciate the thought.”

“Shepard, this isn’t fair! They can’t do this!” Tali said, her voice wavering. 

“No one is forcing me to do this, Tali. No one’s above the law,” Shepard said, as gently as she could, “not even me. Especially not me.”

“But we just got you back,” Tali said, and Shepard's heart broke just a little bit more.

“My decision on this matter is final.”

Tali huffed and marched down to engineering. The rest of the crew milled around, informally lining up to talk to Shepard. Zaeed moved to leave.

“Hey, Massani,” Shepard called after him. He reluctantly turned around and shuffled back.

“Shepard,” he said, never one for conversation.

“I said I’d help you find Santiago, and I meant it.”

“While you’re being held captive? Neat trick,” he said.

“I’ve put in a word with the Shadow Broker. Santiago won’t be able to hide for long.”

“Well damn, Shepard, that is a neat trick. Just for that, I won’t kill you for fucking me over,” he drawled.

“Uh huh. You’re welcome,” she said. He laughed harshly and offered her his hand. She shook it, each of them gripping a little bit more tightly than necessary. 

“Hated working with you, Shepard,” he said.

“Let’s never do this again, shall we?” she replied.

“Agreed. Drinks?”

“So long as you’re buying.”

“What happened to ‘when this is over, drinks are on me,’ huh?”

“For everyone except you, Massani. For everyone except you.”

She spent the rest of the afternoon saying goodbye to the crew, to varying degrees of success. Tali refused to speak with her, and Shepard respected her wishes, although it stung. One by one, they stopped at the different planets, and the crew filed out, until eventually only Shepard and Joker remained. 

“I take it you’re staying with the Normandy while she’s grounded then?” she asked him.

“They’d have to drag me out of here kicking and screaming,” he said. Shepard snorted.

“I suspect my words won’t mean much once we hit ground, but I’ll ask Anderson what he can do,” she said.

“I appreciate that, commander. For what it’s worth, it’s been an honour.”

“Same to you, Joker. Mostly.”

“Hey, I’m an absolute delight to work with!”

“Uh huh. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The panic well and truly set in once Shepard set foot off of the ship. She’d never admit it aloud, but she was terrified of being locked up. One of the first things she’d learned as a child was to always have an escape plan. The thought of being trapped in a house for months on end made her break out in a cold sweat. 

The Alliance soldiers that escorted her to the house were nice enough. Admiral Hackett had sent some of his best officers to look after her, and they kept a respectful silence through the trip. It was a nice house, located in Vancouver. It even had a view of the ocean, of the mountains. But the walls crept in on her, dizzyingly close. Her heart hammered in her chest, her hands clammy.

While Shepard was nominally under house arrest, she was allowed to have a few visitors. It helped that her primary visitor was Admiral Anderson’s chief aide, Marie Shepard. Rules and restrictions were bent, just a little. There was too much red-tape for Anderson to visit, so he sent her messages through Marie. Shepard was also permitted one other visitor; Marie had insisted that while Shepard was stuck on Earth, she needed to visit with a therapist. Anderson had sided with Marie, damn him. They argued about it several times, an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object.

“I don’t need to see a shrink, I’m fine,” Shepard said.

“Oh yes? And the screaming at night, that’s just a normal thing?” Marie replied calmly.

“No amount of therapy is going to fix that.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m _fine_.”

“What happened to never lying to me, Jeanne?” Marie asked. 

“That’s a low blow.”

“Oh for-- just let me help, alright? Do it for me,” Marie said.

“...fine,” Shepard grumbled. _Damn it._

“Good, she’ll be here in an hour.”

“Damn it, Marie.”

“You’ll thank me later.”

“Don’t count on it.”

The therapist was fine, Shepard supposed, but that wasn’t enough to counteract her unease. Was it not bad enough that she had to be trapped? Did she need to subject herself to scrutiny, revealing her deepest secrets?

“It’s nice to meet you, Joan,” the therapist said. Shepard winced.

“I’d prefer you called me Shepard,” she said.

“Alright Shepard, my name is Geraldine.” The therapist-- Geraldine, was a kindly old woman wrapped in a cable-knit sweater embroidered with a pattern of flowers. “If I may ask, why don’t you want me to call you by your first name?”

“It’s private.”

“Of course. Shepard it is, then. Now, could you tell me a bit about yourself...”

The days began to blur together. Shepard saw Geraldine twice a week, and then spent the rest of her time alternating between training and learning. Leisure made her uncomfortable (another damn thing that Geraldine had asked her about). She wasn’t allowed access to technology, and so Marie brought her stacks of books, ranging from poetry to non-fiction to instruction manuals. Her days were filled with activity, a distraction.

Her nights were empty. She would lay awake for hours, both unwilling and unable to fall asleep. Since she’d had a brief taste of being held, sleeping alone was almost unbearable. Sleep, when it did come, was fitful. She forgot what it was like to sleep without nightmares. The dark circles under her eyes became more pronounced. With every day that passed the walls pressed in tighter, and her words became razor-sharp. 

After two months of this, Geraldine placed a saw in her hands. It was cool and sharp, with a wooden handle inlaid with a pattern of flowers. 

“Alright, well, you’ve certainly got my attention,” Shepard said dryly.

“Now, now, dear, there’s no need to deflect, it’s just us here,” Geraldine said gently. Everything she did was so gentle, it set Shepard’s teeth on edge, waiting for the catch. There was always a catch.

“Alright, I’ll bite. Why am I holding a saw?” Shepard asked.

“Well, if you were holding onto a saw and it was hurting you, what would you do?”

“I’d drop it,” Shepard said impatiently. She didn’t like where this was heading.

“Good! Now imagine that the saw is your negative thoughts and feelings. They hurt you, but rather than letting them go you hold onto them more tightly, allowing them to cut away at you. Am I right?”

“I don’t want to talk about this.” Shepard’s voice was sharper than she meant it to be. Too much, walls closing in. She didn't want to be seen, didn't want to be dissected like this. She wished Geraldine would stop looking at her like that. She resented pity.

“Ah. Well, I can see you’re tired. We’ll leave it there for today, but I’d appreciate it if you could think about what I’ve said, okay?”

“...fine.”

It was hardly news, really. Shepard had long since made peace with her habit of punishing herself. It was a kind of justice, of retribution. She resolved herself to explain this to Geraldine. Maybe then she’d give up and leave Shepard alone to suffer in peace. It was unlikely, but it was possible.

Shepard ran through the conversation over and over in her mind as she trained. Each hit to the punching bag was a confession, each pullup an explanation. But when it came time to talk to Geraldine, she blanched. There was something unnervingly comforting about speaking with her. It made Shepard want to run and hide.

“Hello my dear, have you given any thought to what we talked about?” Geraldine asked.

“A little,” Shepard hedged.

“That’s alright. Would you be willing to talk to me about it?” Her voice was so kind, so warm.

“I have a different metaphor for you,” Shepard blurted.

“I’d be delighted to hear it.” Geraldine motioned for her to continue. Shepard awkwardly cleared her throat.

“Imagine a blackboard covered in tally marks, each one a death. Now imagine thousands of rows of boards, each one completely covered with tallies, so coated in chalk you can’t even tell what colour they started as. That’s what I’ve done. I don’t deserve comfort, and I don’t deserve forgiveness,” she said. Her voice was hoarse, like whispers in a church. “And I certainly don’t deserve or want pity.”

Geraldine’s voice was calm, warm. “So you're punishing yourself for the things you've done?"

"Yes," Shepard said, instantly.

"Some might say that the good deeds you’ve done far outweigh the bad.”

“It doesn’t work like that; saving someone’s life doesn’t counteract taking another. You can save a life a thousand times, but you can only take it once.”

“Except yours,” Geraldine pointed out. Shepard winced.

“I didn’t ask for that,” she said.

“I see. So then why do you continue doing good, if you feel like you can’t counteract the bad?”

“Someone has to do it. If I don’t, then who will?” Shepard said. Geraldine leaned forward intently.

“Is it okay if I push you a little here?” she asked. Shepard wanted to shrink back into the chair, but she held steady.

“...I guess? I won’t know until you ask,” she said reluctantly. Geraldine chuckled.

“Fair enough,” she said. “Tell me, would you say the same things to your friends that you say to yourself?”

“It’s not the same.”

“Well, your friends also have full blackboards, yes?”

“Not as many.” Shepard’s voice was flat.

“Not as many,” Geraldine agreed easily. “But more than most. Would you ask them to take all of this guilt and pain onto their shoulders? Would you allow them to?”

“Of course not,” Shepard snapped.

“So then why do you ask it of yourself?”

“It’s my burden to bear.” Her answer was immediate, ingrained. Always, always the weight on her shoulders. 

Geraldine quietly sipped her tea. “You lied to me earlier, didn’t you Shepard?”

“In what way?” Oh, did she need to sound so defensive?

“You wouldn’t have dropped the saw, would you?” Geraldine said gently. It was phrased as a question, but it wasn’t. Shepard wanted to throw the door open and run and run, until her legs gave out beneath her. Geraldine’s eyes flickered down to Shepard’s hands and she realized, belatedly, that she was digging her nails into her palms. Geraldine reached over and covered Shepard’s hands with her own.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” she said kindly.

Lukewarm water splashed on Shepard’s hands, followed by the cool, familiar touch of medi-gel. Geraldine patched her up with practiced hands, humming softly.

“You’re very good at that,” Shepard said.

“I used to be a nurse in the Alliance, I retired a few years ago,” Geraldine explained.

“Then how did you get this job?” Shepard asked, her brows knitting together. Geraldine smiled up at her.

“I have a daughter, you know,” she said conversationally. “Oh, she’d be a little older than you, I suppose. Funny how these things work out. She and her son settled on the colony on Feros, not too long before things went south. They’re all I have, Shepard, and without you they’d be gone. When I heard what you’d done, I knew I couldn’t sit by and do nothing when people needed help. Every good deed has ripples, spreading out through the galaxy. Every person you save has the opportunity to learn and grow, and to do more good. There’s always a choice, Commander Shepard, and it matters that you choose to help.”

Shepard throat constricted. Geraldine gently dabbed away the tears.

“You’ve had a long day, dear,” she said. “How about you get some rest?”

“I can’t sleep,” Shepard rasped. 

“Well, you don’t get to be this old without picking up a few tricks. Let’s see what we can do.”


	20. The Bell Tolls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leaving Earth.

_Each man's death diminishes me,_

_For I am involved in mankind._

-Excerpt from For Whom the Bell Tolls, John Donne

A few months of house arrest, and Shepard felt almost content. It scared the hell out of her. Contentment meant complacency, and complacency meant danger. Geraldine said she should sit with the discomfort, that she should recognize and acknowledge the feelings. Shepard was doing her best. She’d been making good progress lately. Occasionally, she even slept through the night.

“I have a gift for you,” Geraldine said. She held out a small, plastic object.

“Well, at least it’s not a saw,” Shepard joked. Geraldine chuckled.

“Very perceptive of you,” she said. “Am I right in thinking that when you experience stress, you frequently cause physical pain as a kind of distraction? With your nails, or maybe your teeth?”

“Yes,” Shepard said, a touch defensively. “It helps me concentrate. It’s that or dying.”

“I’m not judging you, dear,” Geraldine said. “But sooner or later something could go wrong. Maybe your wounds get infected, maybe the scars start to act up. Instead, I’d like you to hold onto this little ice pack, and focus on that sensation. Could you try that for me?” She looked so kind, like she really cared about her wellbeing.

“Alright,” Shepard said.

After four months had passed, there was a knock at the door. It was Marie, accompanied by a young Alliance officer. Well, hypothetically he was an officer, in all honesty he looked like one huge muscle. He dwarfed Marie entirely, looming over her. 

“Ma’am, I’ve got orders for your transfer to the detention centre of the Council Chambers,” he said. Shepard crossed her arms. 

“Am I finally getting that trial?” she asked. 

“Can’t speak to that, ma’am,” he replied.

“Not yet,” Marie said, pushing forward, “but they want to bring you in for some questions.”

“Of course. Let me grab my things,” Shepard said. “Muscles over here can help carry the books.”

“Ah, I should probably introduce you. Meet Lieutenant James Vega,” Marie said.

“It’s an honour to meet you, ma’am,” Vega said, saluting.

“That’s a refreshing attitude, lieutenant, let’s see if it lasts,” Shepard replied. “And there’s no need to salute. I’m not a commander anymore.”

“Hey, then is it alright if I stop calling you ma’am? Feels weird. It’s what I call little old ladies, y’know? And you are _definitely_ not a little old lady,” Vega said, eyeing her up and down. Shepard snorted.

“Shepard will do just fine,” she said. 

“Yeah, but that’s what I call shortstop over here,” Vega replied, pointing to Marie.

“We can’t all be giants,” Marie said dryly. “And technically I outrank both of you now, so show a little deference.”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” Shepard said, saluting. Marie whacked her on the arm.

“Keep that up and I’m taking the books away,” she said. Shepard held up her hands in mock surrender and headed into the bedroom, haphazardly throwing her clothes into a duffle bag. They cleaned up the house, under the watchful eyes of the guards. Shepard may have turned herself in, but the Alliance wasn’t fool enough to leave her unguarded, for her protection as well as theirs. 

They loaded the gear into a skycar, and within an hour they were on their way. It was exhilarating, as it always had been, to be in the air. Shepard wished she could be driving, but that would be breaking far too many rules. The familiar kiss of wind against her face was good enough, for now. Vega helped carry everything into Shepard’s new room, and then he left, promising to come back to ‘show her what real fighting looked like.’ Shepard laughed at that. 

The detention centre was everything Shepard had feared from house arrest. Oh, there was nothing visibly wrong with it; it was well-lit, the bed was comfortable, and there was a large window overlooking the city. But it was so, so very small. She could feel herself choking the second she set foot in the room. She stuffed her hand into her pocket and wrapped her fingers around the ice pack. Cold raced through her hands, pulling her back into her body. She exhaled shakily.

“I’ll visit as often as I can,” Marie said softly, her eyes full of concern. “And Geraldine will still come by as well.” Shepard nodded wordlessly. She pulled Marie into a hug, resting her chin on top of her head. 

“When did you start taking care of me?” Shepard asked. 

“We take care of each other, Jeanne,” Marie replied. 

“I love you.”

“And I love you.” 

They stayed like that for some time, until Marie was called away for work. And then Shepard was left alone, in a room both too small and too big. Gently, she removed the stained glass from her bag. It was the only thing she’d taken the time to properly pack. She placed it next to her bed, and then she sank to the ground, resting her head against the cool window. 

It was going to be a long few months.

Vega was as good as his word, although not as successful as he was obviously hoping he’d be.

“I didn’t take you for a brawler,” he said, breathing hard, after two relatively evenly matched rounds.

“That was your first mistake,” Shepard replied, taking a swig of water. “And it’s something I intentionally encourage. If someone comes at me swinging, they aren’t expecting me to be able to fight back. Surprise is a hell of an advantage."

“So why tell me that? Now I’m gonna be able to kick your ass no problem,” Vega said. 

“There’s no point training if I’m only going to win by a technicality. Surprise is good, but practice is better.”

“I like your style, commander.”

“I’m not a commander anymore,” she said. “Now show me what you’ve got.”

Vega was correct; he did indeed kick her ass no problem, in a laughably short amount of time. She was quick on her feet, but one punch to the gut left her reeling. He followed it up with a shot to the face and Shepard was down and out. 

“Colour me impressed,” she said, massaging her jaw. “Can you show me how to do that?”

Vega laughed. “You’re gonna need a lot more protein powder before you can do that, but I’ll see what I can do.”

She trained with Vega most days, and she had the bruises to prove it. On the upside, this meant she was generally so exhausted that she was asleep before her head hit the pillow. Small victories. As promised, Geraldine continued to visit. 

“Is there something we haven’t talked about yet that you’d like help with?” Geraldine asked. Shepard reached for the ice pack.

“Yes,” she said. Shepard laid her heart bare, in front of this woman who she’d only met a few months ago. She told her about her doubts, about her fears. She told her about Garrus, about her self-denial. Another kind of punishment. Another wound that wouldn’t heal, scars acting up.

“Thank you for sharing this with me,” Geraldine said. “I know it’s not easy for you.”

“Yes,” Shepard said quietly. Even that short admission was overwhelming.

“You care about Garrus a great deal.”

“Yes.”

“And you believe that being with him will hurt him in the long run?” Geraldine asked.

“That's the way it's always been.”

“And so you’re grievously hurting both of you in the name of sparing him pain?”

“Ah, well, it sounds bad when you put it like that,” Shepard admitted.

"How would you put it?"

"I'm causing a little pain to spare a lot of pain later."

"And is it only a little pain, for you?"

Shepard thought of the wrenching in her gut as she stepped away from Garrus, the hurt in his eyes. "No, it's not."

“Do you think being alone makes you stronger?” Geraldine asked. Shepard thought about her crew. Her friends, and their unwavering loyalty. She thought about Anderson, the first person who had ever helped her. She thought about Garrus, and her heart fluttered. And, perhaps most of all, she thought about Marie. The one, shining constant in her life. Joan was stronger now than she had been before she’d died, and it wasn’t because of some cybernetic implants.

“No, I don’t,” she said at last.

“So then why are you so focused on remaining alone?”

“Because I, um. I want to punish myself,” Shepard said hesitantly.

“Yes. But as we’ve talked about before, you don’t need to do that anymore. There’s no need to reject happiness at every turn, especially if it’s actively hurting someone you care about. What do you think, Shepard?”

“I think you can call me Joan,” Shepard said, and Geraldine smiled.

“Thank you, Joan,” she said, and it felt like a home.

It was good, and comfortable, until it wasn’t.

Until the Reapers came.

Shepard hadn’t really unpacked after she was moved to the detention centre. Old habits die hard, and she was accustomed to leaving in the dead of night. So when Vega came to collect her, she was already prepared to go.

“Ma’am, the Alliance council wants to talk to you,” he said.

“Call me ma’am one more time and I’ll kick your ass, Vega,” Shepard said. She carefully picked up the shard of glass and tucked it into her pocket. Her hands didn’t shake. 

“Respectfully, I’d like to see you try,” Vega replied, winking.

“Another time,” Shepard said. As she left the detention centre, she felt a weight lift from her shoulders. She breathed deeply for the first time since setting foot in the building. A familiar face came into view.

“Shepard, it’s good to see you,” Anderson said, smiling. Shepard grinned and saluted.

“Good to see you too, sir,” she said. But there was someone with Anderson, another familiar face. A no-nonsense bun, army fatigues.

“Shepard,” Ashley said. Shepard felt her heart leap into her throat. _I would’ve followed you anywhere. You were more than a commander to us._

“Ash,” she breathed. She took in the Alliance uniform, the stripes on the sleeve. Her eyebrows rose. “Scratch that, I see that it’s Lieutenant-Commander Williams now.”

“Ah, sorry. I guess I didn’t tell you that,” Ash said.

“I’m sure you had your reasons,” Shepard said, and there was no resentment there. Another thing she’d spoken about with Geraldine, a wound slowly closing.

“Yeah, I guess I did,” Ash said. Anderson motioned for Shepard to follow him, and they fell into step together. Vega and Ash stayed behind. It was like they were back on the SR1, when Shepard was still his XO. A lifetime ago.

“How’s civilian life treating you?” Anderson asked.

“With all due respect sir, I don’t believe for a second that Marie hasn’t kept you apprised of my every movement,” Shepard replied.

“Maybe so,” he said, laughing. His face grew more serious. “I imagine you have a pretty good idea of what the council is going to ask you about?”

“Oh, maybe the apocalyptic calamity I’ve been warning them about for three years now?” The words were light, but her voice was weary. Shepard to the rescue, always and ever.

“They’re listening now. Hell, Shepard, you’re the closest thing to a Reaper expert that we’ve got. You’ve spoken to the damn things,” he said. 

“I’ve told them everything I know. What do they want me to do, politely ask the Reapers to leave?” Shepard asked. Anderson didn’t laugh. Damn it, things must be really bad. Shepard felt a pang of guilt for resting these past six months. But then, she hadn’t been given much choice. 

“You’ll see when we get there,” Anderson said. Oh, nothing good ever came out of a sentence like that.

Shepard was accustomed to having every eye on her, to the desperation of an audience that knows their deaths are coming on fast. She reached for the ice pack. She told the Alliance about the Reaper threat, as she had for years. They asked — demanded — that she tell them what they needed to do to stop it. As if she knew.

Alarms blared through the building. The screens in the room flickered and went dark. And then the Reapers were upon them. Their defenses were useless, as Shepard had known they would be. Why the hell did no one ever listen to her?

An explosion rocked the room, shattering the window and sending the Alliance council flying. Shepard was slammed into the back wall, all of the breath leaving her body. There was the familiar taste of copper on her tongue. She heard screams through the ringing in her ears.

Shit. _Marie._

Shepard put a hand to her comms.

“Marie?? Marie are you okay?” she asked desperately. There was no reply. She felt a hand on her arm, and she looked up. Anderson motioned for her to follow him. 

“I need to know that Marie’s okay first.” Her voice was almost feral, desperate.

“Shepard, we don’t have time. Marie’s resourceful, and a hell of a lot tougher than the two of us. She’ll be alright,” he said, but there was worry in his voice. Shepard nodded reluctantly. They moved through the shattered window, descending down the building. Anderson handed her a gun, the first she’d held in six months. It was almost comforting to slip back into combat. She’d always been most at ease on the battlefield, amidst the wreckage of the world. 

But did there always have to be _fucking husks_?? 

“Shepard, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how to fire a gun,” Anderson said. A dozen heads turned at his words, zeroing in on their location. They came climbing up over the walls towards them, faster than Shepard could hit them.

Well, shit. 

She fell back into a defensive position. Those months of training hadn’t been a waste of time, after all. She swept a leg under one of the husks, sending it tumbling over the wall, knocking a few of its allies on the way down. The next two husks she punched with enough force to send them reeling back, falling over the wall. By then, she had enough space that she was able to shoot the rest.

They moved into one of the nearby buildings, breaking through the door. The room was destroyed, with pieces of metal strewn everywhere, and a gaping chasm that seemed to go on forever. Shepard and Anderson carefully picked their way across.

“What are we going to do, sir?” Shepard asked.

“We’ll need to go to the Council, ask them for help,” Anderson replied.

“That’s never worked before,” she said.

“You’re a Spectre, that’s got to count for something,” he said, and Shepard held back her retort. Not the time. The room rocked with another explosion, and Shepard felt herself pitch forward. Anderson grabbed hold of her jacket, pulling her back.

“I owe you one,” Shepard said, breathing hard.

“I’ll put it on your tab,” Anderson said.

“Have you been able to raise Marie on the comms?”

“Not yet. We’ll find her, Shepard.”

They fought their way through the husks. Ash called to let them know the Normandy was en route. Not soon enough, though. They arrived at a choke point, with waves of enemies advancing on them. Oh, it was the Kenson mission all over again. If a Mech showed up, Shepard would have to put her foot down.

“What’s the word?” she asked between shots.

“Normandy is having a little difficulty getting here,” Anderson replied.

“Really? I can’t imagine what might be holding them up.”

“Lineup at the coffee shop?” Anderson suggested dryly. Shepard barked a laugh.

“Permission to say I told you so, sir?”

“Permission denied.”

“Damn, that’s disappointing. I’ve been waiting to say it for three years.”

Amidst the blood and the death, Shepard thought she’d never seen anything as beautiful as the arrival of the Normandy. The hatch opened and Ash and Vega stepped out, weapons at the ready. Shepard dashed forward and jumped up. 

“Welcome back, Shepard,” Ash said.

“Thanks,” Shepard replied. She turned around to look for Anderson.

“Sir, we’ve got to go,” she said. Anderson shook his head reluctantly.

“I’ve got to stay here, Shepard. They need my help,” he said. Damn it. _Damn it._

“Then I'm staying with you.” Her voice was steel.

“This isn’t a fight we can win on our own. We need every species in the whole damn galaxy if we're to have a chance at defeating the Reapers. No, you need to go get help, make allies,” he said. 

“What if they won't listen?”

“Then make them listen. That's an order.”

“I don't take orders from you, remember?”

He tossed up her dog tags. “Consider yourself reinstated, Commander.”

“I don’t like this,” she said. Understatement of the millennium.

“Neither do I, but we play the hands we’re dealt. I’ll do everything I can to make sure Marie is alright, you have my word. Now go.”

“Anderson...good luck,” she said. It was all she could say.

“You too, Shepard,” he said. The hatch closed, and Shepard wondered if she’d ever see him again.

“Joker, get us out of here,” Shepard barked over the comms. 

“I thought you’d never ask,” Joker said.

“Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing, we need to stay and help!” Vega shouted, moving to stand face to face with her. It was too much, too much. She reached for the ice pack.

“Anderson ordered us to go,” she said.

“Bullshit! He’d never do that."

“Then you don’t know him very well,” she snapped. “You think I don’t want to stay and fight? Damn it, Vega, the only family I’ve got is down there. But this is too big for us to fight alone. They’re counting on us,” she said. He swore loudly.

“This had better be worth it,” he snapped. Oh, if she had a credit every time someone had said _that_ to her she’d be a very rich woman indeed. She felt the Normandy shift beneath them. She raced to the window, and she watched as Earth fell apart. Glass shattering, cascading. 

_Marie._ Marie was alone, missing, on a planet being ripped to shreds. Shepard's hand was numb from clutching the ice pack so tight.

“Commander, got a call from Admiral Hackett. Patching him through,” Joker said. 

Shepard to the rescue, always and ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw, you can find me on tumblr as [veorlian](https://veorlian.tumblr.com/). If you'd like, I'd love to chat/cry with you all about Mass Effect!


	21. Red Sky at Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Priority: Mars

Hackett asked them to go to Mars to locate a Prothean weapon, something that could stop the Reapers. Shepard tucked her grief away to deal with later, when she had more time. Time, as always, was in short supply.

"Looks like a storm brewing," Vega said. Nothing was ever easy, was it?

"Well, we'll just have to be quick then," Shepard said.

As they moved towards the base, Shepard caught sight of a group of soldiers up ahead. One of the benefits of cybernetic implants; she could see for half a mile on a clear day. She moved behind cover and lined up a shot on her Mantis. The Alliance had taken her Widow away. She was still bitter about that.

“We've got company,” she said, sighting down her barrel. She opened fire. She had two down before they realized what was going on.

“What’s Cerberus doing out here?” Ash asked, ducking behind cover.

“You’re asking me?” Shepard said.

“They show up here as soon as you do? You’ve got to admit it’s a bit of a coincidence.”

“The Illusive Man has his talons in everything. I’m sure he’s monitoring Alliance correspondence,” Shepard said. Ash didn’t reply, and they continued towards the base, mowing down the Cerberus soldiers in their wake. Once inside the base, Shepard removed her helmet and shook out her hair. She activated the platform they were standing on. Ash moved to stand in front of her, her arms crossed.

“I need you to be straight with me, Shepard,” she said. “Have you had any contact with Cerberus?”

“For better or worse, Ash, I’ve never lied to you. I have nothing to do with Cerberus anymore,” Shepard said, meeting and holding her gaze. Ash looked away first.

“I'd like to believe you, Shepard,” she said. The same words she'd said on Horizon. Old scars.

“Then believe me,” Shepard said. _Everyone else did_. She didn’t say it. “I was only working with Cerberus to stop the collectors. As soon as that alliance ended, I cut all ties."

“The commander has had no communication with Cerberus since she turned herself in, we'd know if she was working with them,” Vega said.

“Why _did_ you turn yourself in?” Ash asked. 

“I thought you knew me better than that. I worked with known terrorists, and I was responsible for Aratoht. Of course I turned myself in,” Shepard said.

“But Anderson said the destruction of that Batarian system was to delay the Reaper invasion,” Ash said.

“It was, and it did. It was still a war crime. Those people deserve justice, just like anyone else.”

The platform reached the first floor, and Shepard moved into cover. She could hear banging in the ceiling above. The cover fell off a vent and an asari came tumbling to the ground. Two Cerberus agents came following after her and she trapped them in a singularity field. As they floated around, she killed them with two neat shots. Vega moved forward, gun at the ready. Shepard held up a hand.

“At ease, Vega,” she said. “Liara, we have to stop meeting like this.”

Liara turned to face her and smiled. “Shepard, it's a relief to see a friendly face. What are you doing here?”

“We could ask you the same thing,” Ash said, moving forward.

“Ashley! It’s good to see you. I’ve been here the past few months researching a Prothean artifact,” Liara said.

Ironically, Liara seemed more like her old self now than when Shepard had first met her on Illium. It was good to see that she'd returned to archeology in addition to her work as the Shadow Broker. It suited her. In another life she would’ve made an excellent teacher. Liara explained that the artifact was actually a blueprint for a weapon that could stop the Reapers.

“That explains why Cerberus is here. That sounds exactly like something they’d want to get their grubby little mitts on,” Shepard said.

“Yes,” Liara replied. “The blueprint is just on the other side of that tram line. Cerberus will likely try to stop us.”

“They can certainly try. Let's go.”

“About damn time,” Vega said.

“Not you, Vega. We're gonna need someone to get us out of here quickly,” Shepard said.

“What? You can't send me back!”

“That's an order, lieutenant,” she replied. He huffed and left. Shepard, Liara, and Ash moved through the base, cutting down the Cerberus agents they encountered. It was odd, fighting with these women. They’d been with her in the beginning, back on the SR1. So much had changed, but Ash and Shepard still moved like a well-oiled machine. It was a homecoming, of sorts, to gun down enemies back to back. It was like no time had passed, like Shepard had never left. 

As they rounded a corner, a laser beam scorched past them. Shepard threw out her arms and shoved Ash and Liara behind her. She risked a glance and hastily pulled her head back as another beam almost singed off her eyebrows.

"We're gonna have to make a break for it," she said. "Stay in cover as much as possible, alright?" She breathed deeply, and then booked it across the room to a pillar on the opposite side. They moved that way, from cover to cover, barely avoiding being obliterated. Once they'd reached the other side, they were mostly in the clear. And then it turned out that the next room was filled with Cerberus soldiers. Shepard slipped into a tactical cloak and hid behind a desk. She glanced over and hurled a grenade into the centre of the room. Ash and Liara moved in, and they made short work of the soldiers.

"I'll see if I can get the tram running from here," Liara said.

"Let's see if any of those helmets have a communicator," Ash said. "We can pretend to be one of their officers, say the hostiles were eliminated."

"Good thinking," Shepard said.

Liara began reprogramming the tram while Shepard and Ash searched for a communicator. They removed the helmet from one of the soldiers. Shepard felt bile rise in her throat at what she saw there.

“Oh my god, he looks like a husk,” Ash breathed.

“Not quite, but close enough.” Shepard had had the misfortune of seeing a hell of a lot of husks up close and personal. The veins of the face were pronounced, midnight blue against sallow skin. But he was still recognizably human, for what little it was worth.

“That could've been you, Shepard. For all I know, it still might be. I don’t know what the hell they did to you in that lab. Would you even know if they were controlling you?”

“That's not fair and you know it, Ash.”

“How can I trust you?” Ash asked. Shepard inhaled deeply. Her sore and battered heart beat in her chest.

“I understand your reservations,” she said at last. “The only thing that'll build trust is time, and I can give you that. Until then, we’ve got fighting to do.”

“We can agree on that, at least. And Shepard?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for understanding.”

“Anytime, LC,” Shepard said. She pulled the communicator out of the helmet and radioed Cerberus, telling them the threat had passed. She motioned for Ash and Liara to move into cover, and she smiled grimly as the doors to the tram opened and Cerberus agents poured out. She had to admit, there was something deeply cathartic about fighting them. It had made her skin crawl, having to work with the Illusive Man. Each shot distanced herself from that, from him.

“Holy shit, that's Shepard!” One of the Cerberus soldiers screamed. Well well, her time with Cerberus had made an impact. Good. One of the perks of saving the galaxy a handful of times, she supposed, was that very few people wanted to fight her head on. She could’ve done without the fuckers holding shields that covered their entire body, though. That was just cheating.

They battled their way across the tram line, sowing chaos in their wake. Finally, they reached the main room. The artifact loomed over them, glowing faintly. Shepard and Liara moved to the control panel, while Ash did a sweep of the room.

A hologram flickered into life.

“Shepard,” the Illusive Man said. 

“I distinctly remember saying ‘If I never see you again, it’ll be too soon,’ and yet here you are,” Shepard said.

“You got here too late,” he said.

“Fighting you and the Reapers at once is a pain in the ass. We need to work together to stop the real threat. If you help me, I can save Earth.” She wasn’t sure if she meant it, but damn it, it was worth a shot. Anything to save Earth.

“You could do better than most, but your destruction of the collector base proved that you're impetuous, hasty. Where you see only destruction, I see an opportunity. Think of how control of the Reapers could aid humanity.”

“Damn it, the Reapers aren't pets, they can't be controlled.”

He tsked. “Always so short-sighted.”

“Have you seen what they've done to Earth? Every minute a thousand people die. If you really valued humanity as highly as you say you do, you'd stop at nothing to destroy the Reapers."

“You were a tool, Shepard, and you did well enough, despite our differences. But your usefulness is at an end. Don’t interfere with my plans again.”

“You’re a coward and a fool,” she said. “And you’ll regret this, before the end.”

“Shepard, the data's gone!” Liara called.

“Goodbye, Shepard,” the Illusive Man said, his voice unspeakably smug.

“Rot in hell,” Shepard suggested. “Liara, what's going on?”

“Someone is scrubbing the data, Shepard! It’s local; they’re here somewhere.”

“Oi, put your hands up!” Shepard heard Ash say. She turned around in time to catch sight of a woman leaning over a control panel at the back of the room. She was wearing Cerberus colours, a uniform identical to Miranda’s. She looked from Ashley to Shepard, smirked, and booked it away. Shepard broke out into a dead sprint after her.

There were a few benefits to being over 6 feet tall and wiry, and one of them was that Shepard ran like an athlete. With every stride she gained on the Cerberus agent, until the agent fired an incendiary blast back at her. Shepard was forcibly knocked to the side. She unsteadily rose to her feet. She could smell smoke. The agent was all the way at the end of the corridor, and Shepard sprinted after her, blood pumping in her ears. 

Shepard followed her up a ladder. The storm was in full swing now, threatening to sweep her off of the building. She hauled herself onto the roof and watched with a sinking heart as the agent ran into a waiting shuttle.

“Shit, she’s getting away! Vega, Normandy, anybody, do you read me?” Shepard shouted desperately. She pushed her legs as hard she could, running across the hot tarmac. She wasn’t going to make it.

“I’ve got this,” Vega said over the comms. The shuttle came soaring through the sky, crashing into the Cerberus shuttle in a spray of fire and scrap metal. Vega stumbled out, grinning widely. Liara and Ash finally caught up to Shepard and ran to examine the vehicle for any signs of the missing data. Shepard watched, almost in slow motion, as the Cerberus agent emerged from the smoking wreckage. Helplessly, she watched her pick Ash up by the helmet and slam her repeatedly against the shuttle before tossing her aside like a ragdoll. 

Shepard saw red. Visceral, violent, scorching red. The agent came running at her, and Shepard lifted her pistol and aimed. Three shots in rapid succession, directly to the head, her hands steady as a rock. The agent crumpled to the ground. Shepard raced to Ash. Gently, she cradled her friend in her arms.

“What do we do with this one?” Vega asked, pointing to the remains of the Cerberus agent.

“Take her with us, we’ll see what EDI can get from her,” Shepard said. Ash was so cold, her face shattered. “And the Illusive Man better hope I never see his fucking face again.”

Shepard didn’t let go of Ash until they’d reached the Med Bay. Tenderly, she set her down.

“She needs medical attention, Shepard. We need to get to the Citadel,” Liara said.

“Joker. Citadel. _Now,_ ” Shepard snapped.

“Already going, commander. I’ve got Hackett on the other line,” Joker replied. _It never rains but it pours._ Shepard reluctantly pulled away from Ash and headed for the briefing room.

“Commander,” Hackett said. “Status report?”

“We’ve got most of the data, sir,” Shepard said. “But Lieutenant-Commander Williams was injured.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “But there will be more before this is over. Shepard, I need you to go to the Citadel to talk to the Council. Convince them to help us,” he said. 

“And if they won’t?”

“Make them listen, commander. That’s an order.”

“I’ll do what I can, sir,” she said. And maybe pigs would fly, she thought privately. The Council had never listened to her before, they weren’t going to start now. But she was a soldier, and she had her orders. She would get it done.

The trip to the Citadel was mostly a blur. Shepard barely left Ash’s side, constantly fussing over her blankets, making sure her pillow was fluffed up. She had killer’s hands, unused to care, but she did what she could. She followed behind as the medics carried Ash up to the Huerta Memorial Hospital, but they wouldn’t let her stay. 

Shepard waited anxiously in the lobby, idly flipping through the store catalogue. Her eyes fell on _The Complete Tennyson Collection_. She bought the book and sat down to read it. Poetry had never been her strongest suit, but she struggled through. When Ash woke up, Shepard would be able to recite it to her. She had to wake up. The words blurred in front of Shepard’s eyes. She clutched the ice pack like a rosary.

“Commander, is that you?”

“Dr. Chakwas,” Shepard said, biting back her tears. “How are you?”

“I’m well, I’m working here on the Citadel, although I confess that I do miss the Normandy,” she said. “And you?” Her eyes darted down to Shepard’s hands.

“As well as I can be,” Shepard said. It was comforting to see a familiar face. “Doctor, would you be willing to come back to the ship?”

“I’d be delighted, if you’ll have me,” Dr. Chakwas said immediately. Shepard smiled weakly.

“Good to have you back,” she said, and they shook hands. 

“Before I go, I believe they are allowing visitors for Lieutenant-Commander Williams now.”

“She’s awake?” Shepard couldn’t keep the hope out of her voice.

“Not yet, but she’s stable. She’s a tough young woman.”

Shepard thanked the doctor and all but sprinted towards the back of the Hospital. Ash was going to be okay. Ash had to be okay. Shepard hovered at the doorway. Tentatively, she stepped inside. Ash was bruised, bloodied, her body so still. Shepard willed her to open her eyes.

“Hey,” she said softly. “You had me worried there.” No response, no movement. Shepard pulled up a chair and sat down. She’d heard that patients in a coma could sometimes hear the outside world. Quietly, stumbling over the words, she read the first stanza of _Ulysses._ Maybe Ash would wake up just to correct her pronunciation. It was worth a shot, at least. A nurse knocked on the door to tell Shepard that visiting hours were over. She nodded absently. It was time to see the Council. She couldn’t put it off any longer. She set the book down next to Ash.

“We have no evidence that this weapon, this Crucible, will even work,” the asari councilor said.

“Please, isn’t it at least worth trying?” Liara asked. “We can’t win this war using conventional means.”

“We can’t do this alone,” Shepard said. “We don't have time to argue, Earth is falling as we speak. My people are dying by the millions, councilors.”

“And you would have us abandon our own planets to aid yours? To invest in a weapon that may not work? The cruel and unfortunate truth is that while the Reapers focus on Earth, we can shore up our own defences,” the asari councilor said, like Shepard had known she would. It didn’t make it any easier to hear. 

Marie, Anderson, Geraldine. Her home, little more than bait to protect their own worlds. A dismissal. A refusal to help, even now. After all she’d fucking done for them.

_Bullshit._

“So Earth dies to protect you?” Shepard asked. She saw Udina scowl at her, but she didn’t care. If the Council was going to treat human lives as acceptable collateral, chess pieces on the board, she wasn’t going to let it go unchallenged.

“You would do the same, if our positions were reversed,” the salarian councilor said. Shepard shook her head.

“With respect, councilor, the fact that you are alive today is only because I sacrificed human lives in order to save the Destiny Ascension during the fight against Sovereign. Humanity rose to help you in your hour of need. Make what choice you will, but don’t do me the disservice of saying I would do the same,” Shepard said, her voice forged of iron and steel.

“This meeting is finished,” said the salarian councilor.

The turian councilor approached her later, telling her that the only way she could get the support of the turians would be to travel to one of Palaven’s moons, to rescue the Primarch. Palaven was taking heavy casualties, the councilor said. The death rate was staggering. 

Oh, _Garrus._ He’d gone to Palaven. Shepard felt her knees go weak, but she remained upright. No, he was fine. He had to be fine. She stumbled back to the Normandy, only distantly aware of the reporter asking to join the crew. She nodded absently and the reporter (Dana? Diana?) thanked her.

When Shepard slept, she dreamed. It was the church, dim light filtering through the cobwebs. Marie was there, but it wasn't her Marie. Her Marie was twenty-four, with greying hair and worry lines. This was a child, smiling, not a care in the world.

And then alarms, and a beam of light scorched through the building. Marie faded into ash, whistling through the air, shattered glass cascading.

Then it was Kaidan, joking with her in the SR1. His words echoing in her ears, telling her to rescue Ash. And then the alarms, the light, and he was gone.

And finally, Garrus. Garrus watching her six, bickering back and forth. Garrus, holding her tight in his arms. Alarms, light, ashes.

Shepard sat bolt upright, hair plastered to her forehead.

That was the first of the nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW we're officially at novel length folks!! What the HECK


	22. Saints and Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Priority: Palaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reunion time babyyyyyyy

The Normandy may have been retrofitted with the latest technology, but they hadn’t quite gotten around to repairing the training room. Wires hung from the ceiling, and the equipment was littered across the floor. It would be a few hours until they arrived at Palaven, and Shepard had been hoping to work through her grief the old-fashioned way. Geraldine wouldn’t approve, but Geraldine wasn’t here. Geraldine was stranded on Earth.

Still half-dazed from her nightmares, Shepard went off in search of someone to spar with. She found Vega in the cargo bay, doing pull ups. 

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey. What's up?"

“You were pretty pissed off when we left Earth. Do we have a problem?” she asked, leaning against the wall. She was vaguely hoping he'd say yes. She badly needed to hit something.

“No. I may not like it, but you and Anderson are right. We can't fight this alone,” he said.

“Glad to hear it.”

“Was there anything else you needed? Or are you just here to admire the view?”

Shepard snorted derisively. “Don't flatter yourself. I just need to know I can trust you to have my back.”

“Not sure what else I can tell you, you already know my record.” He was still doing pull ups. Show off.

“I don't actually. I didn't have any access to intel at the time, as you may recall,” she said dryly.

“Ah, right. Think you can talk and dance at the same time?”

“You know I can,” she said.

“That's what I like to hear,” he said, grinning. 

They squared up in the middle of the cargo bay. He came in with a swift uppercut that she neatly dodged. She went for a punch to the throat and he batted her aside. They circled one another, waiting.

“You know, you remind me of my old CO,” he said. Shepard swung at him again, but he easily blocked her.

“Oh yeah? And who was that?” she asked. She punched him in the gut, but it didn’t have much of an effect. Jesus, what was he made of, bricks?

“Captain Toni,” he said. “He was a tough son of a bitch.”

“Was?”

“He was killed, along with the rest of my unit.” He got her square in the jaw.

“I’m sorry,” she said. She spun around with a roundhouse kick and caught him on the side of the head. “What happened?”

“We were on a mission, and we were getting valuable intel on the collectors. I had to choose between the data and the crew. I chose the data,” he said.

“That couldn’t have been easy,” she said. She knew firsthand.

“The best part was, we didn’t even need the data, because you went and destroyed their homeworld,” he said. There it was. He came at her swinging, and she ducked. His fist whistled through the air above her, missing by inches.

“Do you blame me for that?” she asked quietly.

“What? Of course not. If you hadn’t done that, we’d all be dead.”

“So you blame yourself,” she said.

“Who says I blame myself?” Ah. She’d hit a nerve.

“I say.” He came at her again and she deftly caught his arm and used his momentum to flip him over her head, sending him slamming into the ground. “You couldn’t have known, James. You can mourn their loss and regret their deaths, but you can’t let it consume you. If you’re looking for someone to blame, blame the Reapers.” She held out a hand to help him up.

“Thanks, boss,” he said, and he took her hand.

“Boss?”

“Would you prefer ma’am?”

Shepard laughed. “Boss works just fine.”

They were swarmed with husks before they even hit the ground on Menae. They carved their way through the horde, beating a path to the main camp. Then, because it was never easy, it turned out that Primarch Fedorian had been killed trying to leave the planet. 

“Who’s the Primarch then?” Shepard asked. Without a Primarch, there would be no summit between the different races. And with no summit, any hope of defeating the Reapers died.

“Hard to say. We can’t contact Palaven Command; our communication tower is down,” said the leader, General Corinthus.

“I’ll get that tower operational,” Shepard said. 

She was growing depressingly accustomed to fighting husks. Their shambling run was still disconcerting, their human features horrifying, but they died just like anything else. Kill enough monsters and the fear wears away. She and James held out while Liara repaired the tower, and she tuned out everything else. The pain and grief faded away, briefly. All that mattered was gunning down the husks before they could get to her. She almost didn’t recognize Corinthus’ voice over the comms.

“It may take a while to hear back, Commander,” he said. 

“I’ll help hold off the husks,” she said absently.

“I appreciate that,” he said, and signed off.

“Hell yeah, bring it on!” Vega shouted, and ran headlong into the horde. Shepard started picking the husks off one by one. After what felt like an eternity, Corinthus radioed to ask them to return to camp.

“On our way,” Shepard said. She wasted no time heading back to the camp, anything was better than being out in no man's land surrounded by stumbling corpses. She breathed a sigh of relief as the barricade door closed behind her. Bullets still rained down like hail, but at least here there was cover to hide behind. 

“The new Primarch is General Adrien Victus,” Corinthus told her, once she arrived.

“Great. Where can I find him?” she asked. No time to waste.

“We lost contact, he could be anywhere out there,” Corinthus replied. 

"Shit. I guess I'd better start looking," she said.

“Don’t worry, Shepard, we’ll get you to the Primarch.” The voice was achingly familiar. _Garrus_. He was alive. Oh, he was alive. The relief she felt was instant and overwhelming. 

“Vakarian, sir, I didn't see you there,” Corinthus said, standing at attention. Shepard’s eyebrows rose. Sir? From a General? She studied Garrus. He hadn’t flinched, which meant he had grown accustomed to deference in the six months she’d been gone. The Shadow Broker's words flashed in front of her eyes. _Unlikely to reach full leadership potential under Shepard's command._

Well, he wasn't under her command now, and it sure as hell looked like he was achieving his full leadership potential. Responsibility sat easily on his shoulders, it seemed. It suited him.

“Good to see you, Vakarian,” she said, and they shook hands. Shook hands, like acquaintances. Under different circumstances, she might have laughed. She’d imagined her reunion with Garrus countless times over the past few months, mostly as she lay awake at night. It figured that they’d be reunited in the middle of a war zone.

“Garrus, this is Lieutenant James Vega. Vega, this is Garrus Vakarian. One of the best snipers I've ever met, and a hell of a soldier."

"Actually, I'm _the_ best sniper she's ever met," he said, shaking Vega's hand. “Good to see you too, Liara.”

“Glad to see you’re alive, Garrus,” said Liara.

“We thought you'd be on Palaven,” Shepard said. _I thought you were dead_. The words were better left unspoken.

“Ah, well, I'm the closest damn thing we have to a Reaper expert, so they sent me here. I’ve been advising.”

“An expert? Hell, Garrus, why didn’t you say so?” Despite herself, despite her grief, she was grinning. It was familiar, this back and forth.

_So, Archangel huh?_

_Oh, it’s just a name the locals gave me, for all my, um, good deeds. I don’t mind it, but please it’s, uh, it’s just Garrus to you._

The positions had been reversed, then. Then she was freshly risen from the dead, rescuing him from certain death. He’d been open, vulnerable. Now, she was facing overwhelming odds, desperately looking for help, and he was cool and collected. She felt like she was playing catch-up, suddenly. 

“I was fighting alongside Victus a few hours ago, I can take you to him,” he said. The first helpful thing she’d heard all day.

“Commander, we’ve got a problem here!” Joker shouted through the comms. Ah. It wasn’t really a mission until at least three things went catastrophically wrong.

“Talk to me, Joker,” Shepard said.

“EDI’s going haywire! The whole ship’s going nuts!”

“I’ll go check on them,” Liara said, hurrying away. Shepard turned back to Garrus.

“Ready to go, Vakarian?” she asked.

“Are you kidding? I’m right behind you,” he said, and it was music to her ears.

…

She looked good. Well, she'd always been breathtaking, but this was different. The dark circles under her eyes had faded. There was a rosiness to her cheeks he'd never seen before. Maybe part of house arrest had been forcing her to actually eat three meals a day. He was grateful to whatever Alliance soldier had insisted on that. Probably Anderson.

The relief that flashed in her eyes when she saw him, when she heard his voice, was maybe the best thing he'd seen in his whole damn life. It figured that they’d be reunited in the middle of a war zone, but wasn’t that the story of their lives?

“Actually, I'm _the_ best sniper she's ever met,” and it was worth it for the wry twist of her lips. 

“We thought you'd be on Palaven,” Shepard said. In her eyes, he saw _I thought you were dead._ He’d thought the same thing, when he’d heard the reports from Earth. He'd thought he’d lost her again, that he’d never get the chance to tell her how he felt. He would’ve fought a Reaper single-handed for the chance to see her smile again. And now he had that chance. She was alive. Damn, if he’d thought seeing her alive on Omega was a relief, it was nothing compared to this feeling. 

“Ah, well, I'm the closest damn thing we have to a Reaper expert, so they sent me here. I've been advising,” he said, and his voice was calm, collected. The voice of command. He’d learned it from her. He could fall to pieces later.

“An expert? Hell, Garrus, why didn’t you say so?” Spirits, he’d missed this woman. But there was work to be done before they could have a proper reunion.

“I was fighting alongside Victus a few hours ago, I can show you the way,” he said. Someone, probably Joker, shouted at her over the comms, and Liara left.

“Ready to go, Vakarian?” Shepard asked, and oh, he’d been waiting six long months to hear those words.

“Are you kidding? I’m right behind you,” he said. She flashed him a grin, and it looked like the sun.

“Commander Shepard,” Corinthus shouted, “we’ve got husks coming up on the main barricade. If it falls, we lose this camp.”

“Leave it to us,” Shepard said. She climbed up the ladder to the barricade, hoisted herself into the tower gun, and opened fire. She barely needed to look at where the husks were coming from, her aim deadly accurate. And then a huge, hulking beast came at them and tore her from the barricade, and Garrus’ heart stopped. He couldn’t lose her, not now. He’d only just gotten her back.

 _“SHEPARD.”_ The cry tore from his throat. Unsteadily, she rose to her feet, looked directly at him, and winked. Oh, if she made it out of this alive he was going to kill her. The brute turned to face her and reared back, preparing to charge. She smiled grimly and unleashed a burst of incendiary flame at it, followed by shot after shot. It lowered its head and charged, and she threw herself to the side at the last second. She struck one final, killing blow, and the brute fell at her feet. 

Garrus vaulted over the barricade and raced towards her, checking her for injuries.

“I’m fine,” she breathed. 

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he said. He was so absorbed in checking she was alright, that he missed the look on her face. 

“We’re not done yet, Vakarian,” she said, pointing at something over his shoulder. Another brute came barrelling at them, followed by a group of husks. Garrus had almost forgotten the way she moved in battle; competent, unyielding, a tempest made flesh. But he still winced every time she was hit, still flinched whenever an enemy got too close to her. Garrus led the way through the battlefield, to the last place he’d seen Victus. The ground was littered with corpses, coated in blood.

“How bad is it on Palaven?” Vega asked as they walked.

“Two million dead the first day, five million the next,” Garrus said. Vega let out a low whistle.

“Sorry,” he said. “You got family down there?”

“My dad, and a sister,” Garrus replied. He saw Shepard flinch.

“Garrus, I’m sorry,” Shepard said. He glanced back at her.

“And I’m sorry about Earth,” he said.

“We’ll save them,” she said, and he wished he believed her.

…

One second she was on top of the barricade, mowing down husks, and the next she was sprawled on the ground, scrap metal littered around her. She could feel adrenaline pumping through her body as she stared down the brute. It was oddly calming, in a way. She was Commander Shepard, a legend in her own right; she could handle this. She heard Garrus shout her name, and she looked up at him and winked. 

The brute came at her, and she grinned. She unleashed everything she had at it, and then fired shot after perfectly placed shot. At the final moment, she rolled to one side, neatly avoiding its attack. The brute fell, inches away from her. For the first time, she got a close up look at it. It looked disconcertingly like a Turian, in the same way that the scions were like humans.

Garrus raced over to her, and he ran his hands over her body to check for injuries.

“I’m fine,” she breathed. 

“I’ll be the judge of that.” She arched an eyebrow. Hmm. Maybe _too_ accustomed to command. She caught sight of a brute coming at them.

“We’re not done yet, Vakarian,” she said, turning him around. Their fighting was by turns familiar and jarring. She was used to having Garrus at her six, but now he kept trying to insert himself between her and the enemies, shielding her with his body. It was sweet, in a misguided kind of way, that he wanted to protect her. But it interrupted the flow of the battle, and it kept blocking her shots.

He stepped in front of her, shooting down a husk that was charging at her. She activated her tactical cloak and faded from view, popping up a few feet away and taking the killing shot on the brute, as well as hitting a husk that was creeping up behind Garrus. He spun around at the sound, and his eyes flickered up to her.

“Try and keep up, Vakarian,” she said.

“Is that a challenge?” he asked.

“Consider it an invitation,” she replied. “My back’s getting sore from carrying the fight.”

“Didn’t realize you’d gone soft during house arrest,” he shot back. This was the reunion she’d anticipated. His need to protect her felt wrong, felt off. This was more like it.

Garrus motioned for them to continue, and he guided them towards Victus.

“How bad is it on Palaven?” Vega asked as they walked.

“Two million dead the first day, five million the next,” Garrus said. Vega let out a low whistle.

“Sorry,” he said. “You got family down there?”

“My dad, and a sister,” Garrus replied. Shepard winced. She wouldn’t wish that kind of worry on anyone, least of all Garrus. Oh, _Marie._ She hoped she was okay. 

“Garrus, I’m sorry,” she said. He glanced back at her.

“And I’m sorry about Earth,” he said.

“We’ll save them,” she said. She had to believe it.

Liara had asked her once, why she continued to fight against overwhelming odds. It was easy, really. There was too much at stake for her to stop. She didn't have an option. And so she held onto her beliefs and her morals as tightly as she could, and she hoped that that was enough.

The sound of gunfire, ever present, grew unbearable as they reached the entrance to Victus’ encampment. It was absolutely overrun with husks, marauders, and brutes. Shepard rolled her shoulders and motioned for Vega to move in first. She and Garrus hung back, pulling out their sniper rifles. 

“20 credits says I can take down more marauders than you,” she said casually. 

“50 credits says I take down more marauders _and_ brutes,” he replied. 

“Big talk, Vakarian.”

“Put up or shut up, Shepard,” he said, and she laughed. She'd missed this.

“Oi, I’m still on the comm line, assholes,” Vega said. Shepard laughed again, and she settled in for a fight. Wave after wave of enemies came at them, but they drove them back. In a few short minutes it was over, and they were standing face-to-face with General Adrien Victus, the new Turian Primarch.

"Vakarian, where the hell did you go?" he demanded.

"I believe your exact words were: 'Get those things the hell off my men,'" Garrus replied.

"Hmm. Fair enough. Thanks. What's going on then?"

"You're not going to like it, sir," Garrus said. He was correct. Probably an understatement, honestly.

“I'm Primarch? Shit. Damn it. _Damn it._ How many people had to die for that to happen?" Victus said.

"There will be more before this is over," Shepard replied. Hackett's words.

"I'm not cut out to be Primarch. Fedorian was. He was a good man, a good friend. He would have made a hell of a diplomat. Damn it, I hate politicians," Victus said. "Sitting back in their war rooms while innocent people die. I belong here, on the front lines."

“As far as I'm concerned, sir, that makes you the best man for the job. We’re at war,” Shepard said. "You see this? Double it, triple it for Earth. I need alliances, and I need them fast. My people are dying. I need your help."

Victus considered her for a moment. “Let me say goodbye to my men,” he said. Shepard nodded.

“Of course,” she said. Victus moved away.

“We’ll probably lose Menae when he leaves,” Garrus said, coming up behind her. “We lose Menae, Palaven won't be far behind.”

“We’ll lose a hell of a lot more if he stays,” Shepard replied. 

“At least I was right about one thing,” he said, after a moment.

“Just the one?”

He chuckled. “You weren’t locked up for very long.”

“Long enough,” she said fervently. 

“Joan?”

“Yeah?”

Garrus leaned in close and whispered into her ear, his breath ghosting across her face. “Final count: 24 husks, 3 marauders, and a brute.” 

“25 husks, 7 marauders, and 2 brutes,” she whispered back. He swore quietly.

“Damn it. I don't believe you,” he said.

“My omni-tool tracks kill count. Don't be a sore loser, Vakarian. Pay up.”

“Make me.”

“I will,” she promised, and then she stepped back. “Primarch Victus, are you ready?”

“As ready as I can be,” Victus said. 

“Then let’s go stop a war.”


	23. Reunion Protocol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Less than an hour back on my ship and you’re already a pain in my ass. That’s gotta be some kind of record.”
> 
> “C’mon, Shepard, you know you missed me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still thinking about that [EDI redesign](https://gayvakarian.tumblr.com/post/624954845761355776/as-promised-here-is-my-edi-redesign-edi-my) by gayvakarian on Tumblr….bioware are cowards

_Cause every time you call my name_

_You're out of here_

_When every moment comes too late_

_That don't matter to me_

_Yes, I'm counting down the minutes till I see you next_

_5, 4, 3, 2, 1_

-Counting Down, Ten Tonnes

“Commander, we’ve got a fire on level three!” Joker shouted as soon as she set foot on the ship.

“EDI hasn’t been responding!” Traynor called from the other end of the hallway.

“You both know I need to debrief Hackett,” Shepard shouted back. 

“Respectfully, my baby is on fire, Hackett can wait!” Joker yelled. Shepard sighed internally.

“Garrus, could you please take the Primarch to the war room? It’s just past Mordin’s old lab. Apologies, Primarch, I’ll be back in a minute,” she said. She strode down the corridor and into the elevator, Joker and Traynor’s shouts ringing in her ears.

Dr. Chakwas was waiting in the hallway on deck three. Shepard nodded brusquely as she passed, and she entered the Med Bay. Smoke issued from under the door of the AI Core. Two members of the crew idled outside of the door, fire extinguishers and guns at the ready. Shepard motioned for them to step back, and she opened the door. The room was filled with smoke from floor to ceiling.

“EDI,” Shepard called, “what’s going on?”

“There is no cause for concern, Commander. The situation is under control,” EDI replied.

“What situation?” Shepard asked. A figure stepped forward, the robot that had hurt Ash. Shepard pulled her pistol out instinctually, levelling it at the robot’s head as the smoke began to clear.

“This unit attempted to take control of our systems, so I took over her body. It was not a seamless transition, hence the fire.” EDI’s voice was coming from the figure. Somehow not the weirdest thing to happen to Shepard that day. She lowered her gun and motioned for the two guards to leave.

“EDI, you should have told someone what was happening. Joker just about had a heart attack,” Shepard said.

“It would have been counterproductive, the response time would have been too slow.”

“Just...don’t do it again, alright?”

“It is unlikely that I will do this again, Commander."

"Point taken."

"Despite the difficult beginning, I believe that this body will be extremely beneficial.”

“Yes?”

“It is equipped for combat, as I’m sure you know. The Normandy’s weapon systems are not suited to close-range combat. This would allow me to travel with you on missions,” EDI explained. Ah. Never mind, this was definitely the weirdest thing to happen to Shepard that day.

“Don’t you, uh, need to be here to control the ship?” Shepard asked.

“Only a small portion of me is piloting this body. There will not be a problem.”

“Alright, EDI, we’ll give it a shot. In the meantime, I have a briefing to get to.”

“Of course, Commander. I will go and check on Jeff.”

“Right. Good luck with that.”

It wasn’t Hackett, in the comm room. Instead, it was the asari councilor. _The cruel and unfortunate truth is that while the Reapers focus on Earth, we can shore up our own defences._

“How can I help, councilor?” Shepard asked coldly. She was still in her armour, still covered in blood. No rest for the wicked.

“Shepard, is it true you’re planning to invite the krogan to this war summit? The salarian dalatrass refuses to go, if that is the case,” the councilor said.

“We need the krogan’s numbers and firepower,” Shepard replied. “We don’t have a choice.”

“I believe you’ve said before that there is always a choice, Commander. You’ve chosen the krogan.”

“With all due respect, councilor, I don’t believe that this is an either or situation. We’ll all die if we don’t work together. These old feuds have no place here,” Shepard said. She could hear Ash’s wry words, back on the SR1. _Why is it that whenever someone says ‘with all due respect’ they really mean ‘kiss my ass’?_

“This is hardly an old feud, Commander. It’s a history of war. There is too much bad blood between the salarians and the krogan to allow them to cooperate with one another.”

“Respectfully, I think that’s a mistake that we’ll all come to regret.”

“There is too much uncertainty with your plan, Shepard. I’m afraid the asari will not be at your summit.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Shepard said through gritted teeth.

“Good luck, Commander. I suspect you will need it.” The call ended. Shepard tugged off her gloves and gripped the ice pack tightly. These days, she kept it with her at all times. EDI notified her that Hackett was on the other line. She accepted the call.

“Commander,” Hackett said. “What’s going on?”

“We’ve got the Primarch here, sir,” Shepard said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “But the asari and salarians refuse to go to the summit.”

“I can’t say I wasn’t hoping for better news, but you did good work, Shepard,” Hackett said. Bullshit of course, but it's the thought that counts.

“Thank you, sir. Any word from Earth?” She couldn't quite keep the hope from her voice.

“Nothing concrete yet. You’ll be the first to know, Commander.”

“Thank you for that, sir, I appreciate it.”

“I’ve sent information on a few more missions for you. Best of luck out there. Hackett out.”

Shepard leaned heavily on the control panel. She slowed her breathing, like Geraldine had taught her to, but the smell of death still clung to her. She sighed, bone-weary, and stepped back. Victus stopped her as she walked through the war room.

“What’s the word, Commander?” he asked, and oh, what she wouldn’t give to have people stop asking her that.

“The asari refuse to go to the summit, too many variables. The salarians are pissed that we’re going to involve the krogan. I’m sure when I talk to Wrex he’ll be pissed as all hell that I want to involve the salarians," she ticked them off her fingers as she went. "Both of our planets are under attack and everyone refuses to help. Welcome to your first day as a political leader.”

"Oh, is that all?" he asked. She wasn't the only one with exhaustion in her voice.

"I'm sure there's more, sir. There always is."

“Feels wrong being up here while my men are dying down there,” he said quietly.

“I know what you mean,” Shepard said. “I hate politics.”

“You’ve picked a hell of a job, then,” he said. She shook her head.

“Picked is a strong word,” she said. “I didn’t sign on for this any more than you did. But if we don’t do it, who will?”

“True enough. Not the Council, that’s for damn sure,” he said. Shepard barked a laugh.

“First rule of politics, sir: don’t badmouth the Council. Take it from me.”

“Personal experience on the matter?” he asked wryly.

“Let’s just say that you shouldn’t ask your councilor for his opinion of me,” she replied. She could feel a headache building at her temples. “Primarch, I mean this with the most respect possible, but is it alright if we continue this conversation later? I still have viscera in my hair.”

“My apologies, Commander. Thank you for your insights,” he said. Shepard nodded politely and headed for her cabin. Oh, she owed a drink to whomever had decided to put a personal shower in her quarters. She stood under the running water for what felt like years. She rolled her shoulders, and heard something crack. Christ, she was getting too old for this shit.

Alright, she’d done the responsible thing. She’d finished the mission and put out the fires. She could allow herself to go speak with Garrus now. Her stomach did a little flip.

...

Garrus was thrilled to settle back into the main battery. There was something deeply comforting about calibrating a giant gun. Shepard would probably laugh at that. Unfortunately, the universe seemed hellbent on interrupting his work. At the moment he was talking to Victus over the comms. The new Primarch wanted to know about the Alliance, and about Shepard. Garrus was answering as best he could. He heard the door open and shut. Only one person ever came to visit him in person.

“What do you think the chance of success is with this summit, Vakarian?” Victus asked.

“If anyone can do it, sir, Shepard can,” Garrus said, loud enough that he knew she’d hear him. “She’s old friends with Urdnot Wrex.”

“Let’s hope friendship still counts for something in this war,” Victus said.

“You can trust her, sir. She’ll get it done, she always does,” Garrus said. Victus signed off, and that just left Garrus and Shepard alone. Familiar, unfamiliar.

“50 credits, Vakarian. Pay up,” she said, as if she hadn't heard the conversation. She stepped down the ramp, leaning casually against the side of the thanix cannon, a few inches away from him. If he reached out, he could have her in his arms.

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you over the sound of all that bullshit,” he replied, endeavouring to keep his tone neutral.

“Less than an hour back on my ship and you’re already a pain in my ass. That’s gotta be some kind of record.” 

“C’mon, Shepard, you know you missed me.” This close, he could see the freckles that peppered her face. It was a good thing she wasn’t a turian, because his subvocals were screaming _I love you._ Keep it together, Vakarian.

“I did miss you,” she said softly, and his heart stuttered. “I thought about you a lot.”

“Anything in particular? My rugged good looks, my dazzling charm, maybe my rapier-sharp wit?”

“Something like that,” she said. He braced himself for her to move away, to step backwards, but she didn’t. Instead, she took his hands in hers and pulled him close.

“I missed you too,” he said. _I love you_. “I wasn’t sure what the protocol on reunions was.”

Slowly, gently, she lifted a hand up to his face, and she kissed him softly on the right side of his face, where the scars were still healing. 

“When we both have some time,” she whispered, “there are some things I’d like to talk to you about.”

“I’ve got time right now,” he said breathlessly. _I love you._ She laughed softly.

“Garrus, I missed out on six months of vital military action, I’m afraid that’s going to need to come first,” she said. 

“Are you sure I can’t convince you otherwise?” he asked, and he leaned in close, resting his forehead against hers. It would be so easy to kiss her, from here. So very, very tempting, after six months laying awake at night thinking of the electrifying feeling of her arms around him.

“100% sure,” she said. She pulled back, but she didn’t let go of his hands. Small victories.

“What do you want to know, then?” he asked.

“Care to tell me how you became the turian Reaper expert?” she said, and her voice was teasing.

“I followed your example; shout loud enough and eventually someone will come see what all the fuss is about. They threw me some resources to shut me up and called it a task force.”

She laughed, then. “So glad to hear that kicking up a fuss is the example I’ve set for you, Vakarian.”

“Amongst other things,” he said. 

“I sure do hope so,” she said.

“I actually ended up asking my dad for help, which is a sentence I never thought I’d say out loud.”

“He was C-Sec, yeah? I seem to recall you two didn’t exactly see eye to eye.”

“Oh, yes. Big fan of responsibility and rules, my dad. Says you should do things right or not at all. He’d just love you,” Garrus said wryly. He’d spent a lot of time, far too much time, imagining Shepard meeting his family. He tried not to dwell on why that mattered so much to him.

“Well, at least I’m not the only one whose advice you keep ignoring,” she said. He rolled his eyes at that.

 _“Anyways,_ I laid it all out for him, and shockingly he believed me. Palaven Command were less convinced, but it’s damn hard to ignore my father.”

“You mentioned a sister as well, are they okay?” Shepard asked. He winced at that.

“I hope so, but I don’t know. Most communication from Palaven has been cut off,” he said. He felt her let go of his hands. Then she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. They stayed like that for a few minutes. Familiar, unfamiliar. Cinnamon and cloves.

“How are you holding up, Joan?” he asked softly. He heard her inhale sharply, and he pulled back quickly to check she was alright. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes a little unfocused. 

“I, um. It’s been a while since someone’s called me by my name,” she admitted. 

“I can stop?” he asked.

“Please don’t,” she said immediately. He reached a hand up to cradle her face and she leaned into his touch. _I love you._

“How was your house arrest?” he asked. She shook her head.

“I’m the one who needs to get caught up, remember? What else should I know about the turians before we have the summit?”

“Shepard, you know I’ve never been a very good turian. Victus would be the one to ask about that.”

“Alright, alright,” she relented. “Hey, I noticed _General_ Corinthus saluted you. How high up the line of succession are you these days?”

Spirits, wasn’t that an absolutely horrifying thought. He shuddered. “I’d rather not think about that. Anyways, Victus is a much better candidate than I am.”

“You trust him?”

“I do. He values his men, and he’s a brilliant strategist.”

“Then that’s good enough for me,” she said, and warmth bloomed in his chest. She trusted him. It made his knees weak. 

“Are you sure you don’t have time to talk about whatever it is you wanted to tell me?” he whispered. He tightened his arms around her and he heard her chuckle.

“Patience is a virtue, Garrus,” she whispered back. Spirits, how many times had he thought about her saying his name? Too damn many.

“I’ve never really been one for virtue,” he said, in what he hoped was a dark and mysterious tone. She snorted.

“I’ve got a political summit to organize between warring factions, an AI walking around in a Cerberus agent’s body, and that’s just from today. I’m a little busy,” she said. 

“So that’s a no…?” Oh, so worth it for the smile. So very, very worth it, even if she did lightly punch him in the arm with her cybernetically enhanced hands.

“The things I want to tell you, Garrus, they’ll take some time. As I believe I’ve told you before, I do things right or not at all,” she said wryly.

“You’re a cruel, cruel woman,” he said, reluctantly loosening his grip on her.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she said, and she leaned forward to brush her lips across his mouth. When he reached out for her, she danced away. “See you around, Vakarian.”

Which left him alone in the main battery, decidedly not in a mood to calibrate firing algorithms. _I love you._

…

“Are you sure you don’t have time to talk about whatever it is you wanted to tell me?” he whispered. She felt his arms tighten around her, and she chuckled.

“Patience is a virtue, Garrus,” she whispered back.

“I’ve never really been one for virtue,” he said, and she felt her pulse beating against her throat. But she’d always had a gift for self-denial, and there was still work to be done.

“I’ve got a political summit to organize between warring factions, an AI walking around in a Cerberus agent’s body, and that’s just from today. I’m a little busy,” she said. 

“So that’s a no…?” He was goading her, she knew. Tempting as it was, it wasn’t going to work.

“The things I want to tell you, Garrus, they’ll take some time. As I believe I’ve told you before, I do things right or not at all,” she said wryly. If she wanted to be with him, and she did want that, he’d need to know everything about her. The church, Marie, everything. It would take more than a few minutes, and a few minutes was all she had. He would just have to wait a little longer.

“You’re a cruel, cruel woman,” he said, but she could hear affection in his voice. Affection, and something else.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she said, and she leaned forward to brush her lips across his mouth. When he reached out for her, she danced away. “See you around, Vakarian.”

The doors to the main battery shut quietly behind her, and she made her way back to the command deck, to review her personal messages. The warm, light feeling in her chest faded as she scrolled through.

_Hey Commander, I’m awake now, thought you might want to know. Thanks for the book, by the way. The nurse said your pronunciation was terrible. I just wanted to let you know, Udina recommended that I be made a Spectre. So that’s...something. Anyways, come chat if you get a moment. I’m going stir-crazy in here._

“Joker, set a course for the Citadel,” Shepard said distantly. 

“Aye, aye,” Joker said. 

Ash was alive, she was okay. The emotional whiplash ripped through Shepard like a bullet. So many different emotions today, and Shepard was ill-equipped to deal with all of them. Because the truth, oh, the truth was that she'd been in love with Ash, once. Shepard had loved her unabashed honesty, her bravery, her unshakeable determination. She'd never told another soul, not even Marie. Unrequited, unspoken, inappropriate for a commanding officer, but there all the same. Shepard had buried it down deep, as she’d done with most things. Before Horizon. Before Ash had turned her back on her. Of all the things Shepard had lost over the years, that had cut her the deepest. 

At the time, Shepard had thought that she deserved the pure, blinding agony of that rejection. A punishment for her sins, perhaps. A reminder that no one could possibly want her. But of course that wasn't true, was it? Not anymore. She wasn't alone. Not anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anyone is wondering about my Garrus/Joan playlist...it's just "songs to fight to"


	24. Tangled Webs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Downtime between missions, and Citadel: Hanar Diplomat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was writing this, I realized that the entirety of Act 1 is just "hang out with your buddies" so here we are. A bit of a light and breezy filler chapter!

From the moment she set foot in the Huerta Memorial hospital, Shepard felt cool, sharp metal digging into her skin, fluorescent lights lancing through her eyes. It was cloying, sickening, dizzying. She flexed her hands and felt phantom pain from her old scars. The last time she'd been in the hospital, she'd been too focused on Ash for anything else. But now, the memories of Project Lazarus came crawling back with a vengeance. The harsh smell of antiseptic invaded her every sense, and she couldn't breathe she couldn't breathe she couldn't--

“Shepard, is that you?” asked a croaking voice. Thane was seated at a chair opposite the wide glass windows of the hospital. It was a good view of the Citadel, watching the sky cars zip past over artificial forests. Shepard struggled to focus her attention on him.

“It’s good to see you,” Shepard said. She held out a hand, which he shook. She reached her other hand into her pocket for the ice pack. The cold raced up her arm, calming her racing heart. Her breath might be ragged, harsh, but for the moment she could breathe.

“And you as well, my friend. When I heard what had happened on Earth, I tried to contact you, but none of my messages went through,” Thane replied.

“There’s a lot of that going around,” she said, sitting opposite him. “How have you been? Have you been speaking with Kolyat?” Thane smiled at that, as much as his face allowed.

“I have. He has brought me a great deal of comfort. Thanks in no small part to you, Shepard,” he said.

“Happy to help,” Shepard said.

“What brings you to the hospital? I don’t imagine I’m important enough to warrant a trip to the Citadel when there’s a war going on,” Thane said. 

“Thane, I battled my way through a heavily armed mercenary group for you, I can manage a trip to the Citadel every now and again,” Shepard replied. 

“But…?”

“Alright, alright, I'm also here to see my friend,” Shepard relented.

“The Alliance soldier? She is due to join my physio class next week, I believe,” Thane said thoughtfully.

“It’s good to hear that she’s up and around. It was touch and go there, for a while,” Shepard said quietly. Thane considered her with those odd eyes of his.

“So long as she is here, Commander, you can consider under my protection,” he said. Warm relief flooded through her.

“I-- thank you, Thane. That means a lot to me.”

“It is the least I can do, for the woman who brought my son back to me.”

After a half hour or so of catching up, Shepard bid Thane farewell and went off in search of Ash. She found her in the same hospital bed, her face more blue than brown. But her eyes were open now, and that was what mattered.

“Hell, Ash,” Shepard said, leaning against the door.

“If it’s that bad, I want you to lie to me, Shepard,” Ash said.

“In that case, you look fantastic,” Shepard replied. Ash rolled her eyes, and then winced.

“Asshole,” she said.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. It looks bad, but you didn’t see it when Garrus took a rocket to the side of the face. Not pretty.”

“‘Hey Ashley, no worries, you look better than the guy who got hit with a rocket.’ Wow, what a compliment,” Ash said. Shepard flashed her a grin and moved into the room, taking a seat next to the hospital bed. 

“How are you feeling, other than your wounded pride?” she asked.

“Like shit, but that’s pretty much to be expected from getting slammed into a shuttle. I’m absolutely climbing the walls in here. I think the nurses would rather I be under anesthesia the whole time.”

“There’s the Ash I know,” Shepard said, her voice laced with affection.

“Hey, speaking of that, how are we doing, you and I?” Ash asked. Ah, shit. Shepard had been vaguely hoping that that wouldn’t come up. Wishful thinking.

“That’s up to you,” she said carefully. “You know I’ve cut all ties with Cerberus.”

“Yeah, I heard you tell The Illusive Man to rot in hell,” Ash replied. Shepard nodded.

“I’d rather get slammed against a burning car than spend even a minute working for Cerberus.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Ash said, deadpan.

“Look, I can’t make you trust me, Ash, but if we’re going to be working together, I need to know you’ve got my back.”

“I just need some time, you know?”

“All the time you need,” Shepard said. There were a few moments of silence, broken only by the gentle beeping of the machines Ash was hooked up to. “How are your sisters and your mom doing? Did they get off Earth okay?” She tried not to think about Marie. 

“Last I heard, yeah. Everyone except Sarah’s husband. He was Alliance.”

“Shit, Ash, I’m sorry,” Shepard said. Grief never got easier.

“She wants us to go to that memorial wall they have in the docks,” Ash admitted.

“I think you should. I’ll go with you, if you want,” Shepard offered. The words hung in the air, and eventually Ash nodded. After another moment, Shepard rose to leave.

“I’ll let you get some rest,” she said.

“Hey Commander?”

“Yeah, Ash?”

“Thanks,” Ash said, and Shepard wasn’t sure what for.

“You got it, LC.”

Shepard had a few hours to kill, so she figured she should go get acquainted with the Spectre office. If the Council wasn't going to help, she might as well take advantage of their resources. On the way, she was stopped by another Spectre: Jondum Bau. Shepard had never really had an opportunity to talk to another Spectre for very long. Vasir and Saren had been hellbent on killing her, and Nihlus, well. She hadn’t known Nihlus very long. It was nice to talk to Bau, even just for a little bit.

“I have been pursuing the master thief Kasumi Goto for some time,” he said. Shepard’s eyebrows shot up her face.

“Kasumi?” She kept her voice carefully neutral.

“Yes, she sent me the tip. There is evidence to suggest that there may be a hanar here on the Citadel that has been indoctrinated. If I make an official inquiry, it’ll tip them off. I need you to help me narrow down which hanar is responsible.”

“You got it. Just point the way,” Shepard said easily. Bau smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he said. “There is more information in the office. We’ll talk more once you’ve gone there.”

Shepard stepped through into the Spectre headquarters, and she heard a light rustling behind her. She grinned. 

“You know,” Shepard said, turning around, “the Normandy just isn’t the same without having the check that all the valuables are in the same place.”

“You always were a sweet-talker, Shep,” Kasumi said, materializing from out of thin air. “How'd you know I was here?”

“C’mon Kasumi, you don't make a sound unless you want to be heard. Give me a little credit.”

“You know me too well. Say, do you mind if I take a look around this place?” She ran a hand along the computers that lined the walls.

“Behave yourself,” Shepard said.

“Aw, you're no fun,” Kasumi said.

Shepard motioned for Kasumi to walk ahead of her, and she kept a close eye on the thief as they picked up some information on the possible suspects at the Spectre terminal. Kasumi offered to follow behind Shepard while cloaked, and Shepard agreed. It was always good to have a spare set of hands. Together, they headed to an information terminal with details about the hanar diplomats on the Citadel.

"How'd you get tangled up in this?" Shepard asked.

"Oh, that Spectre's been trying to arrest me since I got off the Normandy. He's quite nice, really, but he's starting to get a little annoying. I figure if I do a good enough thing, maybe he'll back off," Kasumi said.

“You know, if Bau tries to arrest you, I can grant you immunity,” Shepard said casually as she downloaded the information. Kasumi tsked.

“I’m not joining your crew,” she said. _Damn it._

“I didn’t ask you to,” Shepard said.

“You were building up to it,” Kasumi replied. 

“Me? I wouldn’t dream of it,” Shepard said innocently.

“One suicide mission is more than enough for me, Shep,” Kasumi said. Bau wired them the coordinates for the next terminal, and Shepard headed for the elevator. It amazed her that as far as the Citadel may have progressed, they still relied on elevators. Tiny, confined spaces that moved so very slowly. What was the point of advancing civilization if you still had so many damn elevators?

“You’re sure I can’t convince you to come back?” Shepard asked as they walked through the refugee docks to the next terminal. She saw a young woman wrapped in bandages being rushed by on a stretcher, a young boy crying for her mother. She made a note to herself to come back later to offer her help to the people coordinating relief efforts. There was still a war on.

“That depends, are you still a stick in the mud?” Kasumi asked. Shepard snorted, causing a few people to glance her way. She pretended to be on a call.

“That stings, Kasumi,” she said, once they had looked away.

“You’ve got a gift for avoiding questions, has anyone ever told you that?” Kasumi asked. Shepard grinned.

“Constantly. By ‘stick in the mud,’ do you mean am I still refusing to turn to a life of crime?”

“See, that's exactly the kind of thing a stick in the mud would say,” Kasumi said, and Shepard laughed out loud at that.

They narrowed down the list of suspects until only one hanar remained. Shepard and Bau travelled to the embassies, Kasumi hidden behind them. Together, they burst through into the hanar's office. A computer screen dominated one wall, with a hanar standing in front of it. There was a single human at the back of the room.

“It’s over, Zymandis,” Bau said. “Or should I say ‘Regards the Works of the Enkindlers in Despair?’”

“Alas, this one has been found out,” Zymandis said, in that placid voice all hanar had. “But it is too late. This one is already uploading a virus that will destroy the defences of Kahje, this one’s homeworld.”

“Why are you doing this?” Shepard demanded. "Why kill your own people?"

“This one is serving the Enkindlers,” Zymandis said.

“The Protheans? How the hell is this serving the Protheans?”

“The Endkindlers became the Collectors, and the Collectors serve the Reapers,” he explained. The human at the back of the room grabbed Bau, threatening him with a gun.

“Shepard, go stop the virus,” Bau said, struggling against his attacker. He wasn’t going to make it on his own. 

“No worries, Shep, I got this!” Kasumi called, and she slid across the room towards the control panel. Her hands were a blur on the keyboard. Shepard lunged forward and grabbed ahold of Bau’s attacker. Together, she and Bau wrestled his gun out of his hand. Bau raised the pistol, fired one clean shot, and Zymandis fell. An explosion rocked through the room and Kasumi went flying, fading into nothingness. But the virus was destroyed, and the hanar homeworld was safe.

“Kasumi Goto...was she here the whole time?” Bau asked, breathing heavily. Shepard shot him a look. Pointedly, she looked to the control panel and back to him.

“Given that she just saved your life and a whole planet, perhaps we should leave it there,” Shepard said. Bau caught the hint.

“Ah. I see. Good enough for me. It was nice working with you, Commander. I’ll rally the other Spectres, and we’ll help your war effort however we can,” Bau said. High-level operatives with access to Council resources? Oh, Hackett was going to be delighted.

“Good to have you with us.” They shook hands, and Bau left. Shepard let the silence build for a moment.

“Alright,” she called. “He’s gone. You can come out now.” Kasumi materialized in front of her, a wry grin on her face.

“How’d you know?” she asked.

“Lucky guess.”

“Trouble really follows you around, huh Shep?”

“Tell me about it,” Shepard said. “Look, I know that you don’t want to come back to the ship, but there are other ways to help.”

“Such as?”

“We’re working on building a weapon that can stop the Reapers,” Shepard said. Kasumi shook her head vehemently and held up her hands.  
  
“I’m a thief, not a scientist,” she said.

“And one of the best damn tech experts I’ve ever met. Plus, there’s a lot of fancy, expensive equipment that they’ll need to get for the weapon. And nobody’s going to be checking your pockets when the project is over.”

“Less of a stick in the mud now, I see,” Kasumi teased.

“You say the nicest things,” Shepard said dryly.

Kasumi laughed brightly. “Take care of yourself, Shep.” She hugged her tight, and an instant later she was gone, and Shepard was left standing alone in the room, thoroughly bemused.

She went back to get a better look at the Spectre office. The black walls seemed a touch dramatic to her, but she supposed Spectres were expected to be a touch dramatic. It went along with the territory. She flicked through the communication terminal and approved a few reports, and then switched to the requisitions terminal. As she scrolled through, her eyes lit up. Oh _hell_ yeah. She immediately put in a request, and she raced to the gun range next to the office, and she felt pure, unbridled joy at being able to hold her Widow again. It had been revamped, and it had a hell of a kick to it. _Oh hell yeah._ It almost made up for the Alliance taking it away in the first place.

After a few hours of practice, she’d settled comfortably into wielding her weapon of choice again. It was like seeing an old friend. There seemed to be a lot of that at the moment, she thought ruefully.

Shit, she’d meant to go help out at the refugee camp. She felt a flicker of guilt. She made her way down to the refugee docks as quickly as she could. As she moved through the camp, she heard a familiar voice echoing. The corners of her lips quirked up into a smile. So accustomed to command, these days. 

“We’re gonna need more medi-gel over here, and I want those beds set up now,” Garrus ordered. Shepard turned the corner. He was in the centre of a tiny camp haphazardly assembled between shipping crates, directing the incoming refugees like traffic. She slipped through the crowd with practiced ease, moving so silently that Kasumi would’ve been impressed.

“Anything I can do to help?” she asked, coming up behind him. To his credit, he didn’t jump.

“Truthfully, we can’t do much for most of them. The Reapers are tearing through our defences, and Palaven has nowhere else to send our wounded,” he said, and there was exhaustion in every word.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and she rested her hand lightly on his arm. 

“So am I,” he said, and he placed his hand on top of hers. 

“We’re going to beat them, Garrus.”

He hummed noncommittally. She studied his face. If he were human, she got the impression he’d be going prematurely grey. 

“Oh, I almost forgot, I have a gift for you,” she said lightly.

“Yeah? You're finally gonna give me a salary?” A knee-jerk response, no real feeling in it.

“I believe your exact words were ‘why can't I have a gun like that?’” she said. He inhaled sharply. She suddenly had his full attention.

“You didn’t,” he breathed.

“Oh, but I did. They’ll be up in the armoury by the end of the day.”

“I could kiss you,” he said huskily. She laughed softly. 

“Maybe later. We’ve got work to do.” She gave Garrus’ arm a squeeze, and she went to go find the boy that had been crying earlier. She couldn’t offer healing, but she could offer a sympathetic ear. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.


	25. Small Mercies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Priority: Eden Prime, and Grissom Academy: Emergency Evacuation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long, I had it written and ready to go and then I realized that I 100% forgot to write Javik's quest oops

_I've died a few times before_

_I know what it's like when I can't see the light_

_I find a light of my own_

-Born Alone Die Alone, Madalen Duke

As it turned out, Shepard got a chance to try out the Widow in the field much sooner than she’d been expecting. As soon as she stepped back onto the Normandy, Liara called her down to her office.

“Shepard, I believe Cerberus is after a Prothean artifact on Eden Prime. I would suggest that we make this a priority,” she said.

“We’ll head right there,” Shepard replied.

A Prothean artifact on Eden Prime, huh? It felt like a minute, a century ago, that Shepard had gone to Eden Prime with Kaidan, with Nihlus. Where she’d met Ash in the ruins of the settlement. Where she’d first seen the Prothean beacon, had it rip through her body and her memories. Before she’d died.

“Gonna give Cerberus a run for their money, huh?” Garrus asked on the shuttle down.

“Something like that,” Shepard replied, and she cracked her neck. Ah shit, maybe she really was getting old. It certainly felt like it, thinking about how young she’d been when she’d last set foot on Eden Prime. Not an innocent, never that, but definitely young. 

They’d rebuilt the colony after she’d left. It was cozy, homey, and achingly empty, the wind whistling through the abandoned buildings. Impeccably maintained hedges were overgrown, unruly. Windows were smashed, glass strewn across the ground. Unarmed civilians, riddled with bullet holes, were scattered around the compound.

It was odd, really. The Reapers were a huge, world-ending threat. And she hated them, oh yes she hated them. But not as much as she despised Cerberus. Maybe because the Reapers didn’t care about her specifically. They were impartial in their destruction. The Illusive Man had made it personal, again and again. And he was a human, damn it, a human killing his own people by the score. 

Fuck that guy.

…

Garrus knew she’d been on Eden Prime before, but he hadn’t known her then. It was before his time. But he knew her now, and he was worried about her now. Well, that wasn’t exactly unusual, he worried about her most of the time. Probably too much, to be honest. 

“We get in and we get out,” she said, eyes scanning the area. He saw her jaw tense. “And if Cerberus tries to stop us, well. We’ll give them something to write home about.”

“All good, Shepard?” he asked quietly.

“Peachy,” she said. She’d always been a good liar, but he could see her knuckles whitening from her grip on her gun. “Liara, what do we have here?”

“Shepard...this is a Prothean stasis pod. A prothean! We could talk to a prothean!” Liara exclaimed.

“Good thing we brought our Prothean expert, then,” Shepard said. “Can we get him out of there?”

“Oh, no! That could kill him. There must be some unlocking mechanisms around here somewhere,” Liara said. She set off ahead of them, practically bouncing. Shepard and Garrus continued a few paces back.

“No one’s worth all this death,” Shepard said quietly, soft enough that Liara wouldn’t hear. 

“This isn’t your fault, Shepard,” he said, just as softly. She hummed noncommittally.

Each time she accessed the Prothean records, he saw her go rigid, her warm brown eyes flashing a disconcerting, unnatural green. Jagged, harsh words filtered through the air, and he couldn’t understand a word of it. Shepard did. Something about the Beacon she’d found on Eden Prime all those years ago. Before his time. 

It was worse, so much worse, when they found the child. Small, fragile, peppered with bullets. It was like something snapped in Shepard. She was like a woman possessed as she mowed down the Cerberus agents. She hadn’t been like this since Zorya. It scared the hell out of him.

When the enemies had all fallen, and they stood before the prothean, Shepard was so very still. The prothean grabbed either side of her face, and her eyes glowed green again. She screamed, and Garrus' vision went black. He raced forward to tear her away. Liara grabbed his arm and held him back.

“Let me go,” he hissed.

“She’s fine,” Liara said.

“Then why do you sound so worried?” he asked, and he shook her off. When his hand touched Shepard’s arm, she and the prothean broke apart. Garrus held onto her tightly, supporting her weight.

"Shepard, are you okay?" he whispered.

"Don't worry about me," she said. _Yeah, right, sure._

...

“Turians, humans, asari. I am surrounded by primitives,” the prothean spat.

“Unfortunately, we’re all you’ve got,” Shepard said. She felt Garrus’ grip on her arm tighten. Her head was still spinning, stars appearing at the edges of her vision.

“There were...no other survivors?” 

“Only you,” Shepard said, and she could see the final flashes of his people falling. The prothean turned to face her, looking her directly in the eyes for the first time since he’d woken.

“You fight the Reapers?” he asked slowly.

“Yes,” Shepard said.

“Then I will fight alongside you. For now.”

And that was that. Until they were on the ship.

“Commander, we have a situation,” Liara said. “We need you on the fourth floor now.” _Oh for the love of--_

Still stuck in her armour, Shepard stepped into the Port Cargo Hold, Grunt’s old room. It was filled with a thin haze of fog. A half dozen Alliance soldiers were spread through the room, weapons at the ready. Liara stood between them and the prothean, her arms held up defensively.

“At ease,” Shepard said calmly.

“Sorry, Commander. Unknown alien on the ship, we had to dust off some of the old protocol,” one of the soldiers said.

“Understood, but that’s enough. You can go,” Shepard said.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Alright,” Shepard said, as the soldiers filed out. “Shall we try again? I’m Commander Shepard, Alliance Navy. And you?”

“Javik,” he said shortly.

“Good to meet you, Javik.” She held out her hand, and he considered it distastefully.

“What do you know of my people?” he asked.

“Liara here is an expert, and there was a beacon on Eden Prime, we found it three years ago.”

“Then you...you got our warnings! Why didn’t you prepare? Answer me, human!” Javik demanded, moving up into Shepard’s face. She didn’t flinch, didn’t blink.

“It’s Commander,” she said. She pulled herself up to her full height, several inches taller than him. “And your beacon nearly killed me. No one could understand your warnings, but what little we could understand we used to repel a Reaper invasion three years ago.”

“The invasion was delayed?”

“Yes. And it was delayed a second time, six months ago.”

“Because of our warnings?”

“No.” She didn’t elaborate. “We need your help. We’re building a weapon that your people created. Can you tell us what it's missing?”

Liara pulled the weapon plans up on the console, and Javik moved away from Shepard to examine it. 

“I have never seen this before,” he said shortly. “I am a warrior, not a scientist.”

“I admit, you are not what I was expecting,” Liara said. “I have dedicated my life to studying your people.”

“Amusing. The asari have learned how to read,” Javik said. Liara's face fell, and Shepard's mouth set in a thin line.

“If you’re on my ship, I would ask that you keep personal insults to a minimum,” Shepard said pointedly. Javik turned away, resting his arms on the table.

“You must understand; I am surrounded by primitives. When our empire fell, humans were barely crawling out of the mud. The salarians used to eat _flies,”_ he said. Oh, Shepard was looking forward to mentioning that little tidbit to Mordin when next she saw him. But the point still stood.

“Maybe so,” she said evenly, “and I understand that you are mourning the loss of your people, but--”

“What would you know of loss? What do you know of grief?” he demanded, cutting her off.

“The second Reaper invasion was only delayed through the destruction of an entire star system. I gave the order,” Shepard said quietly.

“I am...surprised. That is almost Prothean,” Javik said. Shepard’s eyes flashed. 

“It was a crime I can never atone for. It's not admirable.”

“You still cling to your honour?” he asked. She nodded.

“I do.”

“Stand on the graves of a trillion souls and ask them if honour matters,” he said. He paused for a moment. “Your silence is your answer."

Shepard stepped forward, and she towered over him.

“I am sorry for your loss, truly,” she said softly, “but do not mistake your failures for ours. Your people fell. Ours will not.” She stepped back. “I’m sure Liara has more questions for you, but I’m afraid I have work to do.”

As soon as Shepard stepped onto the Normandy CIC, Traynor alerted her that there was a possible threat to an Alliance school, Grissom Academy, from Cerberus.

“We would not have noticed this without Specialist Traynor’s input,” EDI said over the comms.

“Good work,” Shepard said, clapping Traynor on the shoulder.

“Oh it was nothing. It still might be nothing,” she replied, a light blush dusting her cheeks. 

“Traynor. Good work.”

“Um, thank you, Commander.”

“Better,” Shepard said, and she radioed the coordinates to Joker. It was a good opportunity to bring EDI out for her first mission, well within range of the Normandy, just in case. Cerberus was locked tight around the facility, so they took the shuttle down to the landing pad.

Shepard motioned for EDI and Garrus to remain behind her, and she activated her tactical cloak as they made their way through the facility. Good support EDI and Garrus might be, but stealthy they were not. The corridors were empty, each footstep echoing. Turning a corner, Shepard spotted a handful of Cerberus operatives that were trying to force open a door. She shot them down quickly, and moved to the door. She could see an older woman in Alliance blue through the window.

“Who are you?” the woman demanded. Shepard holstered her gun and held up her hands.

“Commander Shepard, Alliance Navy. We’re here to help, ma’am,” Shepard said. The woman visibly relaxed, and she hit a few keys on the control panel in front of her. The door opened, and Shepard stepped through. The woman introduced herself as Kahlee Sanders, an old friend of Anderson's. Shepard winced internally at the name.

“What’s the situation here?” she asked. 

“We’ve got Cerberus all over the school. Most of the students are locked in Orion’s Hall, with one of our instructors. There are a few others scattered around,” Sanders explained.

“If you can get doors for me, I’ll get your students out unharmed.”

“Thank you. And Commander?”

“Yes?”

“If you-- When you talk to Anderson...tell him I said stay alive,” Sanders said quietly.

“Yes ma'am,” Shepard said. She headed back into the hallway, and she pulled out her SMG. As before, she travelled ahead of Garrus and EDI, scouting for Cerberus agents, and taking them out quickly and silently.

“C’mon Shepard, leave some for us,” Garrus said.

“Stop clomping around like an elephant and I’ll consider it,” Shepard replied. As they moved through the facility, Shepard found a few students hiding, and she instructed them to go wait with Sanders. At last, they reached Orion’s Hall. The door opened, and Shepard was greeted to the sight of the biotics teacher flinging Cerberus agents left and right. It was a young woman, covered head to toe in tattoos, wearing a crop top, leather jacket and camo pants.

“Jack?” Shepard shouted. The woman-- Jack, turned to the door, and she caught sight of Shepard.

“Well well, if it isn't the queen of the Girl Scouts,” Jack drawled. “Keep these assholes off my students!”

“On it,” Shepard shouted back, just as an atlas came stomping into the room. A cloud of thick, obscuring fog appeared around it, and Shepard tsked under her breath. She activated her tactical cloak and slipped to the side of mech. She unloaded her Widow and took a moment to line up her shot, and then fired directly at the suit operator, destroying the mech. It was over in a matter of seconds.

“Damn it, Shepard,” Garrus complained, “that’s just cheating.”

“Don’t you worry, looks like you’ll get your chance,” Shepard said, as Cerberus agents started pouring in from every side. Jack and her students were on the balcony, holding up a biotic barrier around themselves, while Shepard, EDI, and Garrus tore through the Cerberus agents. When the smoke cleared, Jack vaulted over the side of the balcony. She came at Shepard with a punch to the jaw. Shepard didn’t bother to dodge.

“Your right hook still needs work,” Shepard said, massaging the side of her face.

“I goddamn told you about Cerberus!” Jack said, pointing a finger accusingly at her.

“You're not going to say anything I haven't already said to myself, Jack,” Shepard replied.

“Oh, you feel bad? That's great. I'm sure it'll make all the people Cerberus has killed feel much better,” Jack spat.

“Charming as ever I see,” Garrus said.

“Hey Garrus? Bite me. Better yet, bite her. Probably how she likes it.”

“Good to see you too, Jack,” Shepard said wryly. “You know I'm here to rescue you, yeah?”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“You teach your students with that mouth?” Shepard asked. 

“Up yours, Shepard.”

“Oh, I missed you. You just don't get that kind of quality insubordination these days.”

“It’s not insubordination if you’re not in charge of me,” Jack said.

“You're working for the Alliance now, Jack, so I regret to inform you that I am, in fact, in charge. You’re officially in the Girl Scouts now,” Shepard replied. “How did that happen, by the way?”

“They reached out after the Omega 4, offered me this gig. Apparently the students respond well to my teaching style,” Jack replied.

“It suits you. You look good.”

“Keep it in your pants, Shepard,” Jack said, and Shepard threw back her head and laughed. Jack grimaced in what could almost have been a smile. 

“I mean it, Jack. They’re lucky to have you.”

“This is your damn influence,” Jack grumbled.

“I’m both delighted and flattered. Are you training them for combat?” Shepard asked. Jack glanced up at the balcony. The sound of students bickering floated down. Jack leaned forward.

“Between you and me, they’d be better as support. Barriers and shit,” she said, her voice pitched low.

“Have you told them that?”

“Hell no, they need me to believe in them. I did pick up a few things from your boring speeches, you know,” Jack said. Shepard grinned.

“You’re just full of surprises today, Jack,” she said.

“Makes for a nice change from her being full of shit,” Garrus added.

“Listen here, bird-brain--”

“Commander, we’ve got a problem,” Cortez yelled over the comms. Shepard held up a hand to stop Garrus and Jack from bickering.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“Landing pad’s getting hot. You’ve got maybe two minutes tops before I’ll need to bail out.”

“Head back to the ship, we’ll find another way out of here,” Shepard said. She radioed Sanders, and Sanders sent instructions for getting to the rest of the shuttles. Shepard excused herself to get to work. Jack flipped her off, and she returned the gesture, grinning. 

She could hear Jack talking to the students in the background. Well, talking was a little bit generous. Yelling might be more accurate. Scolding was probably closest to the truth.

“Why do you think she didn’t tell us she’d worked with Commander Shepard?”

“Drink your juice, Rodriguez.”

“Do you think the Commander will let us join the fight once we prove we can fight?”

“Not with those sloppy barriers she won’t Prangley. Eat your damn pretzels.”

The world was going to hell in a handbasket, but some things didn’t change. Shepard hotwired a Cerberus laptop to give Sanders access to the station, and then she went to talk to Jack. Jack agreed to take the students through the upper part of the room, while Shepard, EDI, and Garrus dealt with the bulk of the Cerberus troops.

The room was huge. Under different circumstances, it might have been beautiful; there were delicately sloping staircases, an impeccably maintained garden, and a view of the sky through the ceiling, which was one large window. The best thing about it, though, was that the Cerberus agents were on the opposite side, very far away. Shepard smiled grimly.

“Garrus,” she said, “break out the Widow.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he said. Cerberus didn’t stand a chance. Shepard felt a twinge of sympathy for them, but not too much. Whatever they’d been before, they weren’t alive anymore, and they certainly weren’t human. Shepard could hear Jack shouting at the students again.

“Rodriguez, you call that a barrier? I’ve met little old ladies who could do better than that. Oi, you two, what the hell was that? Prangley, I swear, if you don’t get it together…” and so on. Shepard grinned. Jack sounded like a mother hen, although she’d probably try to deck Shepard again if she pointed that out.

On the other end of the room, a single Cerberus engineer waited next to a damaged atlas. The agent was dead before he’d even registered that Shepard was behind him. She considered the empty atlas, and a slow smile spread across her face.

“No no no,” Garrus said quickly. “Bad idea.”

“Have a little faith, Garrus,” she said, her eyes alight. She clambered up into the atlas, and damn it felt _good._ “EDI, can we get one of these?”

“It would not fit on the ship, Shepard,” EDI said. 

“I’ll just have to enjoy it while it lasts, then,” Shepard replied, and she moved it forward. Each step forward thudded through her body, rocking her back and forth. The first wave of Cerberus fighters fell instantly under the power of the atlas cannons. _Oh hell yeah_.

There were drawbacks of course, there always were. She couldn’t communicate effectively with EDI and Garrus while she was inside, or see where her enemies were coming from. But damn, there was something deeply comforting about having full control of a heavily armed and armoured machine. It was like the Mako, but much easier to maneuver. 

“Shepard, we’re clear! Get your ass out here!” Jack called, and Shepard reluctantly pulled herself away from the atlas.

As they raced to the shuttle, Jack did a quick headcount of the students and realized that one of them was missing. She and Shepard both glanced back through a window into the room they’d just come from, where Rodriguez was falling over herself trying to get away from a group of Cerberus soldiers.

The door had locked behind them, so Shepard took the butt of her rifle and started slamming against the glass of the wide window. Jack pushed her to the side and sent a massive wave of biotic energy forwards, shattering the glass in an instant. Shepard darted forward and slung Rodriguez over her shoulder, and booked it back to the shuttle. Once they were all safely inside, Jack slammed the door closed, and they were out.

“Good work,” Jack said. “Once we’re free, you’re all getting inked, on me. What do you want? Maybe a unicorn for Rodriguez?”

“Screw you, ma’am!” the student said. They were all still riding high on adrenaline. Shepard recognized the slightly unfocused eyes, the bright flush on their faces. She made a note to make sure they got some rest and some food once they were back on the Normandy.

“After this, I think they might be ready for combat,” Sanders said, and there was a ragged cheer from the students. Shepard shared a glance with Jack.

“Respectfully, ma’am, we don’t need more front-line fighters. What we need are barriers and support to protect our soldiers,” Shepard said, and it wasn’t technically a lie.

“What? That’s not fair!” Prangley protested.

“Oi, if that’s where they need us, that’s where we go. Besides, I’m sure we’ll get some hits in,” Jack said. There was some grumbling from the students, but they could handle some disappointment. Disappointment was better than death, any day.

Shepard dropped them off in the mess hall with some high-sugar foods, and she went to debrief Hackett. But it wasn’t Hackett on the comm. It was Anderson. Her throat felt too tight, suddenly.

“It’s good to see you, sir,” Shepard said, saluting.

“Sir? Just because I got a promotion, doesn’t mean you’re allowed to go all formal on me,” he said.

“Good to see you’ve kept your ass alive, then, Anderson,” she replied, grinning.

“Better. I wanted to thank you for rescuing Kahlee Sanders and her students.”

“She said that you two were old friends,” Shepard said.

“Oh, yes. Way back in the day,” he said. “Damn, I’m getting too old for this Shepard.”

“I know the feeling. She asked me to tell you to stay alive.”

“Did she now? That does sound like her,” he chuckled.

“And what am I? Chopped liver?” Oh. _Oh._ Shepard’s knees gave out beneath her and she leaned heavily on the comm panel. Anderson stepped to the side for a moment, and Marie took his place. Shepard could feel hot tears coursing down her face. She didn’t bother to wipe them away. It was good to see Anderson, but this, oh, this was something else entirely.

“You’re alive,” she breathed. She studied Marie for any signs of injury, but aside from a few more grey hairs, she seemed mostly intact. Shepard had never been a particularly religious woman, but she found herself thanking any god that would listen.

“You didn’t think a little thing like a Reaper invasion could take me down, did you? Give me a little credit, Jeanne,” Marie replied, but her eyes were shining. 

“The Reapers won’t know what hit them,” Shepard replied. “Oh, Marie, _mon coeur,_ I cannot tell you how good it is to see you.” Her accent had mostly worn away through years away from France, but it bled through occasionally.

“Same to you, Jeanne,” Marie said. “Same to you.”

“I’m afraid we can’t stay on the comms much longer,” Anderson said reluctantly. “I’ll give you a moment.”

Which just left Shepard and Marie alone, worlds away from one another. 

“I’m so sorry for leaving,” Shepard said. _Again._ Marie shook her head.

“Enough of that. You made the right call. And besides, what would Geraldine say if she heard that?”

“Is she...did she make it out?”

“Best field nurse we’ve got. She’s a tough old lady, I’ll give her that. She asked me to tell you to ‘give ‘em hell’ for her,” Marie said wryly.

“It’d be my pleasure,” Shepard said. “And you? Any requests?”

“I believe you have a friend aboard that may have access to, say, a good amount of information. Put us in touch and I’ll be able to communicate with you more frequently.”

“You got it.”

“And make sure Lieutenant Vega doesn't get into too much trouble.”

“Yes ma’am,” Shepard said, and it was worth it, so worth it, for that windchime laugh.

“I love you, Jeanne.”

“I love you too,” Shepard said. Then the line went dead, and she was left alone, utterly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I was hypothetically thinking about including a Marie POV chapter......would anyone be interested in that


	26. Unstoppable Force

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Earth, the resistance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the positive response to a Marie chapter, folks!

_Prey on the powerful_

_Masters of the game_

_We run with the wolves in the shadows_

_We'll chase them down, till we're face to face_

-The World We Made, Ruelle

_Earth_

Marie woke, as she usually did, to pieces of plaster falling from the ceiling like snow. Regular explosions shook the bunker they were camped out in, the walls creaking under the pressure. Well, there was no point wasting valuable time by lying in bed. There was work to be done; they were moving location later that day. She quickly got dressed in her fatigues and grabbed a protein bar from the canteen. Breakfast in hand, she stepped out into the bracing morning air to check on her squad. The soldiers rose as she approached, saluting.

“Uneventful night?” she asked, scanning the area for threats.

“Yes, ma'am,” the sergeant said. Waverly. He had a wife and son in the refugee camp, she remembered. The soldiers were still saluting.

“At ease. Go get some sleep while you can,” she said. "We leave in a few hours."

“Yes, ma'am,” Waverly said, and he and the rest of the soldiers left.

Technically, Marie was a General, but she didn’t particularly like being called that. Promotions during war time meant that all the people ahead of you had died. And anyways, in her usual line of work, she preferred to be unobtrusive. Being a flag officer was all well and good, but it certainly made it difficult to obtain intel unnoticed. Too visible. 

Like Jeanne, she'd enlisted with the Alliance at 18. She had shown an immediate gift for languages. After basic training, they'd decided she'd be better suited to a desk job, so she was stationed on the Citadel, at Udina’s office. She sat in on most meetings, taking careful notes. Her hearing aids gave the impression that any whispered asides would be missed, and that worked to her benefit. When an asari representative turned off her universal translator and made a snide comment, Marie’s sharp eyesight and talent for reading lips caught it. If a diplomat muttered something compromising to the person next to them, Marie would see it and jot it down. 

And when Jeanne appointed Anderson as the Councilor for Earth, well. Marie became more than a secretary. Anderson was the face of Earth, but he was too open in his dislike for political machinations. She was the strategist, the organizer. Marie had told Jeanne, once, that she mostly sat through the meetings and took notes for Anderson. Little white lies. At 21, she was brokering treaties between political leaders.

There had been accusations of nepotism, when Anderson had taken her on; the kid sister of Anderson’s right-hand woman. One way or another, they didn't last long. She suspected Jeanne wouldn’t approve of her actual work. Too dangerous, she’d say. She was one to talk.

There had been four long years where Marie had been alone on Earth, before Jeanne was able to come for her, and another few years alone in her apartment on the Citadel. She'd spent that time learning, any information she could get her hands on. Whereas time alone had made Jeanne withdrawn, self-sacrificing, Marie had become resilient. Because while Jeanne had been looking up at her brittle, unchanging window, Marie had been looking at Jeanne.

And then Jeanne had died, trapped in the unforgiving vacuum of space. Marie didn't talk about that time, not even to herself.

But that didn’t matter now, because now there was work still to do. She flicked through the travel plans, making small updates and clarifications. They travelled in groups staggered through the day; easier to avoid detection, easier to run in case of an emergency. Marie made a note to check in with her second-in-command for any last-minute changes.

“Morning, Shepard!” Ah, speak of the devil.

“Lieutenant Thompson, how are you today?” Marie asked.

"Fantastic, now that I'm seeing you. Given any more thought to accepting my hand in marriage?" Thompson asked. She was distractingly beautiful, with her dark brown skin dotted with patches of vitiligo like constellations, her dancing brown eyes, and her clever smile. Marie wished things could be different, but they were at war.

“That sounds suspiciously like fraternization,” Marie replied. Her poker-face had always been excellent.

“You catch on quick.” Thompson winked.

“There's a war on, Lieutenant.”

“It’s Karra,” Thompson said automatically.

“I know, Lieutenant,” Marie said dryly. Thompson laughed.

“You really do know just what to say to a girl,” she said.

“Try me when we’re not in a warzone, maybe,” Marie replied. Thompson arched an eyebrow.

“Is that a promise?” she asked.

“Back to work, Lieutenant.”

“You’re a cruel, hard-hearted woman.”

“I’m your cruel, hard-hearted superior officer, Thompson. Any updates?” Marie asked. Thompson was suddenly all business.

"Our scouts say it looks clear out there, but we won't know until we've hit the road," she said. 

"No sign of any survivors either?"

"Not yet, no."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Wheels up in a few hours."

"Always a pleasure talking with you, Shepard," Thompson replied, and her grin was back.

Marie had met Thompson when she'd come back to Earth with Jeanne. Thompson was stationed at head command while Marie was working there. She was witty, bright, irreverent. They’d gotten drinks a handful of times, and swapped stories. Marie reluctantly had to admit that she quite fancied her. And now she was a part of Marie’s squad, in the midst of a Reaper invasion. The world was a funny place. She shook her head to clear it and went in search of the medical tent. 

“Got everything you need?” Marie asked.

“Not by a long shot, but we’ll make do,” Geraldine replied, wiping the sweat from her brow with a rag. It was dotted in dried blood, and a number of other stains. Marie made a note to put in a requisition for fresh linen.

“Is everyone here okay to travel?” Marie glanced around the room at the cots. Geraldine did a quick headcount.

“Simmons just had an amputation yesterday, so it’s going to be tricky, and Freeman still has a bad fever. Everyone else should be fine,” she said. 

“We’ve got a handful of sky cars, they’ll be a lot less bumpy than the vans. Get me their details and I’ll make sure they’re on them,” Marie said. 

“Glad to hear it, General,” Geraldine said.

“I don’t suppose I could convince you to call me Shepard? Everyone else does.”

“No ma’am. It’s well worth some of these folks remembering who’s in charge here.” It was a miracle, that she could keep a twinkle in her eyes, despite everything.

“Anderson’s in charge.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Geraldine replied. The corners of Marie’s mouth twitched, ever so slightly. 

“Let me know if you have any issues with transport, okay?” she said. Geraldine nodded and bustled off to help her patients.

It never got easier, moving through No Man’s Land. They were silent as they travelled. Thompson was N7 and an Adept, so she stayed at the front of the group, leading the way. Marie was in the middle, with a group of refugees. There were a handful of other Alliance soldiers with them. Not enough; they’d lost a lot of good people in the first attack. 

The ground still smoked slightly, warm through the soles of Marie’s boots. Buildings lay broken, smashed to bits. Marie didn’t look any closer than she had to. And then, in the distance, screaming. They were still an hour away from the next stop, but that didn’t matter because there were husks crawling towards them, chasing a half dozen bedraggled people. Marie felt her blood run cold.

“Form up!” she ordered.

“On it!” Thompson called. She and two of the other officers raced forward and around the civilians, forming a loose barrier between them and the husks. They laid down cover fire as the civilians ran toward the rest of the group. Marie motioned for them to get behind her, with the rest of the refugees. As a group, they raced forward, leaving Thompson and the other officers to cover their retreat. It was routine, exactly according to protocol. When they were clear and away, Marie and the medic, Parks, checked over the new arrivals for any signs of injury. One had a nasty gash to the arm, and Marie quickly tore open a medi-gel and applied it, wrapping a makeshift bandage around it, from the first aid kit in her pack. She left Parks to take care of the rest, and put a hand to her ear.

“Lieutenant, we’re clear,” she said into the comms. No response. Her heart leapt into her throat. “Thompson!” No response. The line was dead. 

“What do we do, ma’am?” Waverly asked. Marie sucked in a breath.

“We get the refugees to safety,” she said.

“But ma’am--”

“Thompson and the others can take care of themselves. We stick to the plan. That’s an order, Sergeant,” she said sharply, as Waverly opened his mouth to protest. Still, she hesitated. 

“General, we have to go,” Parks said. "We have a few more wounded."

“Yes,” Marie said, and she motioned for them to continue. She caught up with Parks and the rest. She quickly did a run through to check for some of the more obvious signs of indoctrination; flushed face, glazed eyes, erratic behaviour. She'd need to check again at camp, because most of those symptoms were also consistent with being chased by monsters across a barren wasteland.

There was a crackle of static over the comms. Marie fell back, to the rear of the group. 

“Thompson?” she said, putting her hand to her ear. More static. Too much interference with her hearing aids, maybe? Shit. She turned around, one last time, for any glimpse of the others. There was nothing, only slightly smoking buildings and scorching ground. And then-- a flash of Alliance blue fatigues, black hair neatly cornrowed back. Thompson. It would be unprofessional for Marie to sigh in relief, so she didn’t.

“Report, Lieutenant,” she said instead.

“Sorry Shepard, scion sent a shockwave at us and fried the tech,” Thompson explained. “We gave as good as got though, the husks are all taken care of.”

“Good work,” Marie replied, and if her voice trembled a little, well, it was probably just a fluke. “Fall in.”

The rest of the trip was uneventful, and the path was clear for the rest of the teams. A day with no casualties was a very good day indeed. Marie had Waverly and Parks look after the new refugees, and the rest were tasked with getting the base up and running. 

“Lieutenant,” Marie called, “help me set up these hammocks?”

“What’s the matter, can’t reach?” Thompson was grinning.

“Sorry, I couldn’t quite hear that. I believe you said ‘of course ma’am, right away ma’am.’ Correct?” Marie asked. Thompson snorted, her grin widening.

“Of course ma’am, right away ma’am,” she said, her voice pitched low and decidedly _not_ deferential. Marie’s composed demeanor didn’t slip, but she could feel her cheeks burning.

“Glad to hear it,” she said shortly. Thompson chuckled, but let it drop. There was a companionable silence as they worked. The other teams slowly filtered into the camp, and Marie excused herself to coordinate supplies, sleeping arrangements, guard rotations, and so on. Before she left, she paused next to Thompson.

“Thompson,” she said, “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“Me too.” Thompson flashed a grin, and Marie’s lips twitched.

“Get your tech fixed ASAP, I don’t want any more missed communication, understood?”

“Yes ma’am,” Thompson replied, her eyes alight. 

It was late into the evening before Marie was able to settle down with her regular reports. There was the usual; treaties to approve, intel to decode, relief efforts to coordinate. But at the top, there was a flashing notification, from Hackett himself. For the first time that day, Marie allowed herself a small smile, and she went to find Anderson. He’d only arrived a few hours earlier. He was hunched over the war table alone, going through the reports from the war effort. The red glow of the map of Earth reflected on his face, the death count rising by the second. 

“Anderson,” Marie called, “I’ve got a report here that might interest you.”

“If it's bad news, it can wait until morning,” he said wearily. Marie shook her head.

“Jeanne rescued Kahlee Sanders and her students from a Cerberus attack,” she said. It was never Commander Shepard when it was just the two of them. 

“Thank you,” he said, and he exhaled slowly. “I’ve got something for you as well.”

“We’ve got a stable comm link to the Normandy?” It was phrased as a question, but it wasn’t. No report came in that she didn't read.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you already know,” he said wryly. There were fresh worry lines dotting his face. She made a note to make sure he was getting enough sleep. He probably hadn’t eaten either. She’d need to have a word with some of the others about that.

“Permission to join you for the call?” she asked.

“Granted.”

She waited to the side as Anderson and Jeanne spoke, and she studied Jeanne’s face for signs of wear and tear. She looked mostly intact, although the dark circles under her eyes had definitely gotten worse. Marie spotted a few grey hairs as well. Ah, they matched. After a minute, she decided she'd waited long enough. She needed to talk to her. 

“And what am I? Chopped liver?” Marie asked. Anderson stepped away, and she took his place. She could see tears running down Jeanne’s face, could feel them prickling behind her own eyes. 

“You’re alive,” Jeanne breathed.

“You didn’t think a little thing like a Reaper invasion could take me down, did you? Give me a little credit, Jeanne,” Marie replied.

“The Reapers won’t know what hit them,” Shepard said. “Oh, Marie, _mon coeur,_ I cannot tell you how good it is to see you.”

“Same to you, Jeanne,” Marie said, and it was like she was a child again, huddling for warmth in the ruins of a church. “Same to you.”

“I’m afraid we can’t stay on the comms much longer,” Anderson said reluctantly. “I’ll give you a moment.” He stepped out of the room. Which just left Jeanne and Marie alone, worlds away from one another. 

“I’m so sorry for leaving,” Jeanne said, like Marie had known she would. Always so predictable, her Jeanne. Always with the self-sacrifice. Marie shook her head sharply.

“Enough of that,” she said. “You made the right call. And besides, what would Geraldine say if she heard that?”

“Is she...did she make it out?”

“Best field nurse we’ve got. She’s a tough old lady, I’ll give her that. She asked me to tell you to ‘give ‘em hell’ for her,” Marie said wryly. It was nice to be able to give good news, for once.

“It’d be my pleasure,” Jeanne replied. “And you? Any requests?”

“I believe you have a friend aboard that may have access to, say, a good amount of information. Put us in touch and I’ll be able to communicate with you more frequently,” Marie said. She’d spoken to Dr. T’Soni, a handful of times, when she was coordinating her stay at the Alliance base on Mars. No archeologist had that kind of security clearance.

“You got it.”

“And make sure Lieutenant Vega doesn't get into too much trouble.”

“Yes ma’am,” Shepard said, and perhaps it was the stress of the day, the relief at seeing Jeanne alive, but Marie couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. It was worth it, so very worth it, to see Jeanne’s crooked smile. 

“I love you, Jeanne,” Marie said.

“I love you too,” Jeanne replied. The call disconnected, and Marie allowed herself a moment of quiet before she got back to work. This resistance wasn’t going to run itself.


	27. Pieces on the Board

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Priority: Sur'Kesh
> 
> Promotion, chess: a rule that requires a pawn that reaches the opposite end of the board to be replaced by the player's choice of a bishop, knight, rook, or queen. Since the queen is the most powerful piece, the vast majority of promotions are to a queen. As a result, this process is more generally called queening.

Shepard watched helplessly, hands tied behind her back, as the Reapers advanced on Earth. The planet was ablaze, red flames scorching across green and blue. She saw Marie and Anderson, surrounded on every side by husks. She saw Ash’s face being torn apart, saw Thane withering away, every friend she’d ever made shattering, like glass. And she saw Garrus, back on Eden Prime. As he opened his mouth to speak, he was shot in the head by Saren, the blast ricocheting through every bone in her body. 

She woke up gasping for breath, choking on the air. 

“Commander, are you alright? My sensors detected screaming.” EDI’s calm, detached voice filled the cabin. Shepard inhaled shakily. It wasn’t real, it was just a nightmare. It wasn’t real. 

“Everything’s fine, EDI,” she said, and she climbed out of bed to prepare for the day. She pulled her shirt on over her head, and paused midway through braiding her hair. Shit, the war summit was later that morning. She reluctantly pulled on her formal uniform, and she went to the mess hall to grab breakfast. A voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Geraldine insisted that she was no use to anyone if she was hungry.

She’d always hated the formal Alliance uniform. It was itchy, unwieldy. There was no room to maneuver in it, few convenient places to inconspicuously hide a weapon. Marie had said once that the right words were more effective than a gun. Anderson had told Shepard that politics were more dangerous than any battlefield. She had a knife strapped to the inside of her boot. She nodded to the political leaders as she entered the war room.

“Dalatrass, Primarch, Wrex,” she said, looking at each in turn, “thank you for meeting with me. I’m sure you can recognize that an alliance is in all of our best interests.”

“I’ve come to tell you that you are making a mistake, Commander. The krogan cannot be trusted,” the dalatrass said. Ah. So it was going to be that kind of day. The collar of Shepard's uniform felt tight around her throat.

“The salarians are the ones that can’t be trusted! They betrayed us before, and they’ll betray us again,” Wrex growled.

“We raised the krogan up to fight. It’s all that they know how to do, as you can clearly see,” the dalatrass said disdainfully.

“We won a war for you, and you unleashed a plague on us. The krogan defeated the rachni. Not the salarians, and not the turians,” Wrex snapped.

"It's not a plague. The genophage affects fertility, it hasn't caused any actual deaths," the dalatrass retorted.

"Like hell it hasn't!" Wrex shouted, slamming a fist on the table. Shepard’s eyes flickered to Primarch Victus. He had the distinct look of a man that would rather be anywhere else. She knew the feeling.

“Please, this isn’t helping anyone. If you two cannot agree to talk civilly for at least a few minutes, then this meeting is over,” Shepard said.

“Fine,” Wrex grumbled.

“Very well,” the dalatrass said curtly. Shepard motioned to Primarch Victus, and he cleared his throat. 

“I need an alliance with the krogan,” he said. “Palaven is falling as we speak. There isn’t time for arguing.”

“If you want an alliance, then you need to meet my demands,” Wrex said.

“There is always something, with the krogan,” the dalatrass spat.

“Enough,” Shepard said. “Wrex, what are your conditions?”

“A cure for the genophage,” Wrex said. Oh. Oh, it was going to be _that_ kind of day. 

“Out of the question,” the dalatrass snapped. Shepard held up a hand. As she spoke, her eyes didn’t leave the dalatrass. 

“The genophage has gone on long enough,” she said. “Too long.”

“1476 years, if you’re counting. And we are,” Wrex spat.

“A thousand years of peace from the threat of the krogan!” the dalatrass said. Shepard rested her arms on the table, in the war room that used to be a lab. She’d talked to Mordin about the genophage here, had argued with him about it more than once. _Nothing's ever bloodless._ The more things change.

“With respect, dalatrass,” Shepard said, “the genophage was and is a crime. It has to end.”

“Some decisions are necessary, as I’m sure you are aware, Commander,” the dalatrass said. Chess pieces on the board. Shepard didn’t rise to the bait. 

“This wasn’t your decision to make. You do not have the right to dictate the rise or fall of another species.” Her voice was calm, but her jaw was beginning to ache from grinding her teeth together.

“There isn’t a cure for the genophage,” the dalatrass said, after a moment.

“My sources say otherwise,” Wrex growled. “I know you’ve got some of our females squirrelled away, females that are immune to the effects of the genophage.” He pulled up a screen. A short, shaky video played, showing a collection of krogan in a facility, surrounded by salarians. “I want them back.”

“That...how do we know that video is correct? You could have manufactured it--”

“Dalatrass,” Shepard cut her off, “enough.”

“How _dare_ you--”

_“I said enough.”_

“If you don’t help with this, you won’t get turian or krogan support when the Reapers reach your shores,” Victus said coldly. “Is this the hill you want to die on, dalatrass?”

“On your head be the consequences,” the dalatrass spat.

“They always are,” Shepard said.

They left for the facility on Sur’Kesh later that day. It was good to have Wrex back on the shuttle with her, even if he was jonesing for a fight with anything that moved. It was just like old times. 

“Remember, Wrex, I’d rather we not cause a diplomatic incident. Neither of us wants to do that paperwork,” Shepard said. She eyed his tight grip on his shotgun. She recognized the look in his eyes, and she wasn’t particularly pleased about it. She’d last seen it on Virmire.

“Yeah, yeah. I won’t kill ‘em unless they stop us doing what we have to do,” Wrex grumbled. Really not the response Shepard had hoped for, but better than she’d expected.

“Don’t worry, Wrex, we’ll rescue them,” Liara said softly. Wrex grimaced at her in his approximation of a smile.

“No one I’d rather do this with, Liara,” Wrex replied. Garrus coughed pointedly. “And you can come too, Garrus, I guess.”

“Hope you haven’t gone soft sitting on that throne of yours,” Garrus replied. 

“I’ll show you soft, turian.”

“I’ll bet that sounded better in your head, eh?”

“Shepard, why aren’t we landing?” Wrex demanded, ignoring Garrus.

“Cortez?” Shepard called.

“They say we don’t have clearance, Commander.” _Damn it._ She heard Wrex cock his gun, and she moved to intercept him.

“Trust the salarians to back out on a deal!” Shepard was many things, but strong enough to restrain an angry krogan she was not. He batted her away like you would a fly.

 _“Wrex,”_ she said sharply. He slammed the override on the shuttle door and barrelled out, guns ablazing.

“I’ll show you why the krogan are feared!” he yelled as he crashed to the ground.

“Damn it, Wrex!” Shepard shouted, exasperated. She could hear him shouting gleefully in the background. She jumped out of the shuttle after him, rolling when she hit the ground and coming up into a crouch. She stepped in front of Wrex, holding up her hands.

“Commander, we only just got word of your arrival,” one of the salarians protested.

“A likely story,” Wrex spat. 

“Wrex, that's enough,” Shepard said quietly.

“Alright, alright, fine. But they started it.”

“We’re both very sorry for the misunderstanding,” Shepard said.

“Sorry,” Wrex grumbled.

“Were there any injuries?” Shepard asked. “We’ll be happy to provide reparations to you.” Wrex grumbled something deeply unflattering. 

“No injuries,” the salarian said. “But I’m afraid we’ll need to ask that the krogan remains up here during the handover.”

“I don’t goddamn _think so--_ ” Wrex started. 

“Of course,” Shepard said, cutting him off. 

“Let me know when you’re ready to go to the lab,” the salarian said, and Shepard nodded politely.

“Shepard, I’m going with you,” Wrex snapped. The salarians around them still held their guns at the ready.

“Wrex, you barged in here with a shotgun like a bull in a china shop, of course they don’t want you in their base,” she said.

“Shepard….”

“Wrex. Trust me to get it done.”

“Fine. But if this goes tits up, I’m going in,” he said sourly.

“I wouldn’t expect any less,” Shepard replied. The salarians carefully escorted Wrex away, and the shuttle finally landed. Garrus and Liara stepped out, looking sheepish.

“Thanks for the help, you two,” Shepard said dryly.

“Sorry, Shepard. You, uh, you looked like you had the situation in hand,” Liara said. 

“Your faith in me is inspiring,” Shepard replied. “Shall we?”

They made their way across the landing pad. There was a yahg pounding its fist against the walls of a cage. Liara winced, no doubt remembering their run-in with the previous Shadow Broker. Shepard glanced around, taking stock of the salarians defences. They really weren’t prepared in the slightest for the Reapers. They’d barely been prepared for one krogan. Shepard caught sight of a familiar face, and her eyebrows shot up.

“Captain Kirrahe?” she said. Far too many reminders of Virmire today. At least this was a pleasant one.

“It’s Major now, for my sins,” Kirrahe said, shaking her hand.

“Congratulations, you deserve it,” she replied warmly.

“All thanks to you, with your help on Virmire. Your standoff with Urdnot Wrex is almost legend in the Special Tasks Group.”

“You know, he’s just over there, you could go talk to him if you wanted,” Shepard said wryly. The word legend rang discordantly in her ears. 

“With an entrance like that, it was hard to miss him. I think I’ll just wait over here,” Kirrahe replied, and Shepard chuckled. 

“Probably for the best,” she said.

“Commander, I wanted to say: when you retake Earth, I would be honoured to help you,” he said.

“I-- thank you, Major. I appreciate it.”

“Just happy to repay the favour, Commander. Now, I won’t keep you any longer, I’m sure you’re anxious to get the job finished. Urdnot Wrex certainly is,” Kirrahe said. He and Shepard shook hands again, and it was time to go down to the lab. Always elevators, with these people. Shepard rested her hand lightly on the hand rail, steadying herself. The doors opened, and she was once more greeted by the heavily sanitized, clinical smell of a hospital. She struggled not to gasp for air, darkness creeping into the corners of her vision.

“Shepard! Heard you were coming, all ready for transport.” Shepard latched onto the familiarity of Mordin's voice like a lifejacket. He came to greet her, and in a lower voice, he told her that he was Wrex’s inside source in the facility. 

“Good to see you, Mordin. The ship just isn’t the same without you,” Shepard said, focusing on her breathing.

“Of course, impossible to be the same. Different physical conditions, different parameters,” he said. Shepard opened her mouth to respond, and he held up a hand. “No time, must go now. Patient in poor condition.”

“Patient? There’s only one?” Shepard asked.

“The rest too far gone from Maelin’s experiments.” His voice was sour, at the mention of Maelin’s name. “Only one remains. Immune to effects of the genophage. Last hope for cure.” He gestured to a containment pod protected by a plexiglass wall. Shepard approached the glass. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected a female krogan to look like, but she certainly hadn’t expected this cool, commanding presence.

"Who are you?" the krogan asked.

“Commander Shepard. I'm here to get you out of here,” Shepard said.

“Why do you care? You don’t know me,” the krogan said, and there was malice there, blended with genuine curiosity.

“Not yet, but I’d like to,” Shepard said, just as alarms started blaring. 

“Shepard, we got Cerberus incoming!” Wrex shouted over the comms. Joan wasn’t a vindictive person by nature, but boy was she looking forward to the day that she could wring the Illusive Man’s neck.

“Hold them off, Wrex!” she shouted back. “Mordin, get her out of there.”

“Negative, Commander. Pod must pass through decontamination check points.”

“Do it, I’ll cover you.”

The elevator was (blessedly) jammed, so Shepard booked it to a ladder on the opposite end of the room. Rhythmic explosions shook the room, sending pieces of the ceiling crashing down around her. Run of the mill escort mission, they’d said. Get the female krogan and get out, they’d said. Bastards. At least the open air was easier to deal with than the piercing, unnatural light of the lab. She could’ve done without the Cerberus agents pouring in from every side, but she’d take what she could get.

The worst part about fighting Cerberus, Shepard reflected, was that the Illusive Man knew what Shepard was capable of. He knew how many of his agents she’d killed. And he _still kept sending them to their deaths._ He’d taken their humanity, and then he’d thrown them at her like he'd thrown money at Lazarus; like if he did it enough the problem would go away.

Shepard cleared Mordin and the krogan through the first checkpoint, and she raced up the stairs to the next level, taking them three at a time. She rounded the corner and caught sight of Kirrahe, with Cerberus approaching on every side.

“Good timing,” he said. Shepard took cover next to him. Liara and Garrus caught up a moment later, breathing hard.

“What’s the play?” Shepard asked.

“Cover me,” Kirrahe said. He fired at the oncoming Cerberus agents, each shot attaching itself to their armour. A second later, they exploded, sending the enemies flying.

“Why don’t _I_ have one of those?” Garrus breathed, awe in his voice.

“Vakarian, did I not just get you a fancy new gun?” Shepard asked, breaking cover and darting across the room.

“Well, yes, but it doesn’t fire proximity mines,” he replied, following after her. Shepard aimed a shot at the oncoming Cerberus agents, and then ducked back down to reload.

“It may have escaped your notice, but that’s an SMG,” she said. 

“And?”

“You’re not trained to fire those, big guy. Cool your jets,” she said. 

“It's a gun, there's a trigger, how hard could it be?” He ducked to avoid an incoming grenade. Shepard grabbed the grenade and lobbed it back towards Cerberus.

“Figure it out at the firing range and then we’ll talk,” she said, and she vaulted over her cover. Once all the remaining enemies were down, she moved to the control panel to clear Mordin and the pod.

“Good to see talent for destruction still intact, Shepard,” Mordin said.

“Anything for you, Mordin,” Shepard said, wiping blood off of her face.

“Mission not for me, for krogan alliance,” Mordin replied. The corner of Shepard's lips twitched, and she heard Garrus chuckle.

“Right you are,” she said. “What's the next step?”

“Clear pod through checkpoint, meet us on top level.”

“Got it.” Shepard keyed in the commands, and the pod began to rise. Through the clear glass, Shepard watched a Cerberus helicopter descend, and the door opened, revealing a squadron of Cerberus fighters.

“Shit, Mordin get down!” she shouted. Cerberus opened fire. The bullets mostly ricocheted off the plexiglass, but some shot clear through. Shepard swore loudly, and she climbed up onto the side of the open balcony, through the floral arrangements. She pulled the pin out of a grenade and threw it through the open door of the helicopter. She’d always had excellent aim. Another grenade followed it, and another, and the helicopter spiralled downwards.

“Shepard, we need you up here!” Wrex shouted.

“Go, Commander, I’ll handle this!” Kirrahe said. Shepard nodded, and she darted forward to the ladder on the side of the building, hauling herself back up to the landing platform. It was crawling with Cerberus, all advancing on Mordin and the female krogan. 

“Oi, over here!” she shouted, and the Cerberus soldiers turned around to face her. A hail of gunfire followed, and she ducked down behind a wall and motioned for Liara and Garrus to stay behind her. Together, they advanced on the enemies, mowing them down in their wake. Covered in blood, chest heaving, Shepard made it to the control panel and started keying in the code to release Mordin and the pod. 

“Shepard, behind you!” Garrus shouted. Shepard whipped around, just in time to catch sight of an atlas stomping down the stairs towards her. _Shit._ She ducked behind a table and glanced over to take stock of her options. The Widow, as always, was her best bet. 

“Shepard, I can’t land this thing until the pad’s clear!” Wrex shouted over the comms, throwing off her aim.

“Working on it!” Shepard yelled back.

“What’s taking so long, you getting old?” Wrex asked. Shepard snorted derisively. 

“I’m not the one sitting on my ass in a shuttle, old man,” she said, and she sighted down the barrel of her gun. She heard a footfall behind her and she spun around. Cerberus agents were creeping up behind them. 

“Garrus, Liara, keep them off me!” she called. The first one went down with Garrus’ elbow to the face, followed by a shot from his rifle, point-blank. The resulting explosion sent the others reeling back, and Liara hit them with a singularity, sending them flying. Shepard turned back to the atlas, and she lined up her shot again, directly at the glass covering the agent piloting it. The first shot weakened the glass, and the second shattered it. The third shot hit the soldier directly between the eyes. 

They wiped the floor with the rest of the agents in short order, and finally, finally, the female krogan was set free. Mordin moved to help her out, but Wrex elbowed him out of the way. She ignored both of them, stepping out on her own. Shepard liked her already.

As Shepard washed the blood out of her hair, EDI radioed to tell her that Victus and Wrex were arguing in the war room. Shepard groaned and reluctantly shut off the hot water. She threw on her clothes quickly, not bothering with the dress uniform. If it came to blows, she wanted her full range of movement.

“EDI, please ask Mordin to join us,” Shepard said, pulling on her boots.

“Already done, Commander,” EDI replied.

“Remind me to give you a raise.”

“I don’t require payment.”

“We’ll table that for later,” Shepard replied. She hit the button on the elevator and focused on her breathing as she moved down to the CIC. She strode through to the war room, and was relieved to see that Mordin was already there.

“I need krogan boots on the ground now,” Primarch Victus shouted. 

“You expect me to trust a turian’s word? We don’t move until the genophage is cured!” Wrex yelled back.

“That could take years!”

“Unlikely,” Mordin replied calmly. Wrex whirled on him.

“Like I’d trust a salarian doctor,” he spat.

“Enough, Wrex. This wouldn’t have been possible without Mordin. Let him talk,” Shepard said sharply.

“Fine,” he grumbled.

“Patient is stable. Will need sample from healthy krogan male,” Mordin said.

“You’re looking at him,” Wrex said. Mordin considered him for a moment.

“Acceptable. Will take time to synthesize cure.”

“Work quickly,” Victus said.

“Always do,” Mordin replied. “Suggest speaking with Eve. Refreshing ideas. Unusual in krogan.”

“Eve?” Shepard asked. 

“Normandy is a human ship. Human mythology appropriate.” He turned to leave.

“Good luck, Mordin,” Shepard called after him. 

“Don’t need luck,” he said. As the door shut behind him, both Victus and Wrex asked her to meet with them privately, each looking at the other suspiciously. Fucking politics. She told them she’d speak with them later. What she needed right now, she decided, was a refreshing perspective. She followed after Mordin, to the Med Bay.

If all the krogan women were like Eve, Shepard thought, it was frankly a little absurd that the men were the ones running things. She said as much.

“Our numbers are much lower,” Eve explained. “The genophage has taken much from us. Many of my sisters could not bear the shame of being infertile. The day my child died was the worst of my life, but it allowed me to find another path.”

“How do you mean?” Shepard asked.

“I became a shaman for my people. It is not an undertaking to be taken lightly, but I had nothing left to lose. You're locked in a cave for seven days, with just enough food to survive. On the eighth day you'll starve.” Eve’s voice was steady, compelling, authoritative. She reminded Shepard of Samara, in a way.

“What does that prove?”

“Your resolve. Acolytes either claw their way out with their bare hands, or they die,” Eve replied.

“How'd you get out?” Shepard asked softly, her voice rasping.

“I started digging the wrong way. As I sat there afraid, alone in the dark, I found this,” Eve said. She held up a small, glistening crystal, not unlike a shard of glass. “This became my tool to help me dig my way out. A reminder, perhaps, that even at the end, we can continue.” Shepard realized, suddenly, that she would go into hell and back for this woman.

“We won’t let you down,” she said.

“Mordin has told me about you, Commander Shepard. I believe you,” Eve said. She offered a hand, and Shepard shook it. 

“It feels odd to call you Eve,” Shepard said. 

“Perhaps once we’ve cured my people, I’ll tell you my true name,” Eve replied.

“It’d be an honour.”

“Then let’s show the men how it’s done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eve is one of the best characters in Mass Effect, and Bioware are cowards for not giving us a female krogan companion. In this essay I will


	28. Lapsarian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Attican Traverse: Krogan Team, Tuchanka: Turian Platoon, and Priority: Tuchanka.
> 
> Lapsarian: of or relating to the Fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long folks, this one just Did Not want to be written

_Been dreaming of the payoff_

_Through the struggles and the trade-offs_

_Fighting tooth and nail on the way up_

_Tell them the truth, but they think it's just made up_

_..._

_'Cause we're gonna be legends_

_Gonna get their attention_

_What we're doing here ain't just scary_

_It's about to be legendary_

-Legendary, Welshly Arms

Wrex and Victus, as it turned out, had a laundry list of things for Shepard to get done, each reluctant to provide her with specific details. For Wrex, it was going to rescue a group of scouts that had gone into the Attican Traverse and hadn’t returned. For Victus, it was going to Tuchanka to find one of his squads. As a favour to an old friend, she agreed to help Wrex first. And so off through to the Attican Traverse it was. The rachni relay.

What could go wrong?

“In my cycle, we raised the rachni up as living weapons,” Javik said nonchalantly on the shuttle.

“Weapons?” Shepard asked. She’d wanted the opportunity to see Javik in action, but perhaps bringing him along had been a bad idea. They hadn't spoken since their first, tumultuous meeting. Shepard got the impression that he was judging her every movement, and that he found her wanting. It was an annoyance, more than anything. She didn't particularly care if he liked her, he just needed to follow her orders. 

“Yes. When they rebelled, it took many years to put them down,” he replied. _Like the krogan._ The more things change, Shepard thought. The shuttle landed a moment later. Shepard stepped out, breathing a sigh of relief.

“About time you showed up! We’ve been waiting for hours."

“Grunt?” Shepard asked, her face lighting up. 

“Shepard?”

“Grunt!”

“Shepard!” She was knocked on her ass a second later by an enthusiastically charging krogan. She saw Javik reach for his weapon, and she waved him away.

“Grunt, help me up over here?” she asked, grinning widely. Grunt held out a hand to her and yanked her back up to her feet so hard she thought her arm might pop out of its socket.

“I figured Wrex would send someone. Didn’t think it’d be you,” Grunt replied, clapping her on the back. It had approximately the same effect as being hit with a sack of bricks. “Thought they had you locked up?”

“Intergalactic war has a way of reducing prison sentences. What’s going on?” Shepard asked.

“Rachni,” Grunt said, grinning.

“Yes, we got that,” Garrus said dryly. “This _is_ the rachni relay.”

“Shepard, next time you can leave this one at home,” Grunt replied.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Shepard said easily. “Now, tell me about your crew.”

Grunt explained that Aralakh company was the future of the krogan people - a collection of the best and brightest that each clan had to offer, all led by Grunt. Aww. They grow up so fast.

Aralakh company was camped out in a collection of dilapidated old buildings, perilously close to a steep drop into a nearby ravine. Shepard took Garrus and Javik to scout ahead, treading carefully. As she neared the end of one of the buildings, Shepard felt the ground shake beneath her, and she threw her arm out to grab onto something, anything. No such luck. She plummeted to the ground, the air forcibly knocked out of her. She swore softly, and with feeling. She looked around frantically for Garrus, but he and Javik looked relatively unharmed.

“Shepard, you alive down there?” Grunt called.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily,” Shepard said through gritted teeth. “We’ll go on ahead.” She tentatively put weight onto her bad leg. It hurt like a bitch, but she could manage. No point wasting perfectly good medi-gel when there were bigger problems ahead.

The trail forward led into a series of pitch-black caves. Shepard had always been most at home in the dark. The deeper the shadows, the easier it was for her to move unseen. But there was something about these caves that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. The shadows seemed to absorb the light from her flashlight. The faint skittering sounds set her teeth on edge, but she did not flinch when the first of the rachni appeared.

The three of them battled their way through the caves, Shepard wielding the glorified flamethrowers that had been left behind by the previous krogan team. There were signs of the Reapers everywhere, barriers erected to protect the rachni, and too many damn husks. But Shepard did not balk, did not turn away, until it came time to head to the main chamber. Well, to crawl to the main chamber. She stalled, suddenly overwhelmed by the cacophony of battle around her, normally so familiar.

“You go, Shepard, we’ll hold them off!” Grunt called. Aralakh company had caught up with them a few minutes ago, and they were fighting off the rachni in the next room.

“Is there no other way around?” Shepard asked, looking at the claustrophobic tunnel in front of her.

“We don’t have any goddamn time!” Grunt shouted. Shit. Well, she’d never been a coward. She was too tall to crawl on her hands and knees, so she pulled herself forward on her stomach, desperately trying not to think about the walls crashing down around her, burying her alive. Hand over hand, she moved forward inch by torturous inch. She focused her attention on the feeling of the rock underneath her hands, ignoring everything else. She was so focused that when she finally reached the end of the tunnel, she didn’t realize that there was a steep drop to the floor. In her rush to leave, she launched herself out into the dimly lit chamber, crashing onto the sharp rock of the ground. She landed on her leg again, badly. 

“Shepard, you alright?” Garrus called. 

“I’ve been better.”

“Commander, there are enemies incoming,” Javik said, impassive. Shepard winced as she stood up, and she hauled out her gun. She limped forward into cover, and stayed there for as long as she could. She could feel the walls creeping in on her, the dim blue light of the Reaper tech burning into her retinas. No light, no sun, no air no air no air--

And when the last of the enemies fell, Shepard found the rachni queen. 

“You’re safe now,” Shepard said automatically.

 _"We remember you, from Noveria. You helped us before,"_ the queen said, speaking through the dead krogan that surrounded her.

"Riiiight, that's not creepy at all," Garrus muttered.

 _“The machines have trapped us here, we cannot escape. They have taken our children, twisted our song,”_ the queen said.

“The Reapers?” Shepard asked. That explained all the Reaper tech littered around.

_“Yes. The machines seek to destroy the music. We cannot allow it. We will fight them, if you allow us.”_

“Careful, Shepard, we’ve been burned before,” Garrus said.

“This is the last of the rachni? Let it die,” Javik said. Shepard looked at him sharply.

 _“We do not wish to die, but if the song is to end, we would rather it be at your hand.”_ Shepard shook her head and put a hand to her ear.

“Grunt, what’s going on out there?” Shepard asked over the comms.

“Doing fine, Shepard. I can fight these things in my sleep!” he replied. She turned back to the queen of the rachni, the sole remaining hope for a species.

“I’m not in the business of genocide,” she said quietly. “We’ll help you escape.”

“Commander…” Javik warned.

“This isn’t up for debate,” Shepard said, and she shot through the final barrier holding the queen in place. After the queen was free, Shepard grabbed Grunt and the rest of his company and they booked it back to the exit.

...

Garrus had been there, the first time Shepard had met the rachni queen, and he’d been there the second time, when that asari on Illium had thanked her for her help. A thousand years ago, now. He knew that Shepard believed in second chances, but third chances? Fourth chances? The cynical voice in his head, never far from the surface, muttered that her damn moral compass was going to get her in trouble one day. 

“Are you sure about this?” he whispered, on the shuttle back to the Normandy. 

“I take it you’re not?” she asked, and _oh shit that's how she sounded on Zorya._

“I mean, they’re the _rachni_ , Shepard. It was a risk letting them go the last time, and it didn’t exactly pay off,” he said, his brain shouting at his mouth to stop talking.

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing it’s on my conscience and not yours, isn’t it?” she said. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go check if the others are alright.” And she left. Perhaps it was time to try slamming his head against the wall again.

To his surprise, she asked him to go with her on the next mission. Well, perhaps it shouldn’t have been a surprise, they were going to rescue a turian platoon. If anyone was going to know the ins and outs of turian politics, he supposed it would be him. Wouldn't his dad just get a kick out of that. Once they got planet-side, Shepard radioed Lieutenant Victus, the leader of the squad. The Primarch’s son. Victus sent up a flare, blood-red against the night sky.

“Commander,” Victus said desperately, “some of my men are still out there.”

“We’ll find them,” Shepard said, and she shut off the comm. Garrus suddenly had her full attention. “What’s a turian platoon doing on Tuchanka?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Garrus said. “Maybe they got lost?” 

She didn’t laugh, which he supposed was just as well. As they moved through the minefield of broken spacecraft, the enemies always seemed to be turned away from them. Garrus had never been particularly adept at stealth, but Shepard was like a ghost. He lost count of the number of times he lost sight of her as she faded into the ether.

"This is bad for the Primarch," he said, after they'd rescued the second group of survivors.

"Because his son is in danger?" Shepard asked.

"Promoting family without merit is heavily frowned on by the hierarchy," Garrus explained. And then he heard the sound of wings.

“Shepard, what the hell is that thing?” he asked. Shepard looked up from where she was fighting a group of cannibals. 

“Harvester,” she breathed.

“What?”

 _“Get down, Garrus!”_ One moment she was several feet away from him, and the next she was knocking him to the ground. A laser streaked by overhead, singeing some of her hair. The thing-- the harvester, flapped its leathery wings again and sent another blast towards them. Shepard dragged him behind a toppled pillar.

“Stay down,” she hissed. She rolled off of him, and he realized that she was favouring one of her legs. How long had that been going on?

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Then stop gawking at the enemies, and fire your damn gun,” she replied curtly.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

If he’d thought Shepard was pissed before, it was as nothing to when Lieutenant Victus told her that the turians had placed a bomb in the Kelphic Valley after the krogan rebellions had ended. After they'd released the genophage and signed a damn peace treaty. Oh, she looked calm, certainly, but he could see her jaw tense, could see her cross her arms. 

"That's a heavily populated area," she hissed. "There are women and children there."

“Harsh, but it makes a certain kind of sense. If the krogan rebelled again, we could put a quick stop to it,” Garrus said, which turned out to be exactly the wrong thing to say. She leveled a glare at him that could have frozen lava.

“You’re here to deactivate the bomb?” Shepard asked Victus curtly.

“Yes,” he answered, “but we can’t finish the mission now, almost all of my men are dead.”

“Lieutenant, if that bomb goes off, any hope of peace with the krogan dies. Palaven _will_ fall.”

“Trying to finish it now, that’s suicide. I...this is my mess, I can’t ask my men to give up their lives.” He sounded so young.

“This is the hardest sacrifice to ask for, I know,” Shepard said softly. “But all this death, it means nothing unless you defuse that bomb. You’re not out of the fight yet.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Victus said, saluting. He turned away to talk to his men, and Garrus saw Shepard wince.

“Need any medi-gel?” he asked her quietly. She looked at him sharply.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“I’ll be the judge of--”

“You won’t.”

…

Shepard was tired. She knew Garrus’ heart was in the right place, but damn it she wasn’t made of glass. She could handle pain. And so she shrugged him off, and she told Lieutenant Victus that she’d meet him at the bomb site.

The shuttle ride there was quiet. Shepard avoided Garrus’ eyes. She stepped off the shuttle first in the name of scouting ahead, not bothering to look back. A small voice that sounded like Geraldine's whispered that she needed to rest. The rachni caves had done a number on her. She wasn't thinking straight. She pushed it aside.

“We’ve got Cerberus,” she said into the comms. “EDI, cover me.”

“Yes, Commander,” EDI said. Garrus said nothing, falling back to watch her six. The Cerberus soldiers dropped like flies beneath the onslaught. There was blood on Shepard's face, the harsh smell of burning hair in her nose. War was hell, and bitterly familiar. 

Lieutenant Victus said that he needed time to deactivate the bomb, and Shepard agreed to cover him. And so she watched, helpless, as the Primarch’s son scaled the side of the bomb to complete the final steps. And she watched, helpless, as the huge metal structure came crashing to the ground.

It never got easier losing a soldier. What she really needed was to sleep for a week. But that was impossible. Sleep wasn't exactly a friend, anymore.

Once she'd changed out of her armour, she headed back to the war room. Hell, the amount of time she spent in there, she probably didn't even need her cabin anymore. Wrex and Primarch Victus were already arguing by the time she got there.

“You built a bomb on my planet?” Wrex demanded.

“That was hundreds of years ago!”

“So then why keep it a secret?”

 _“Enough,”_ Shepard snapped. Wrex and Victus glared at one another, but they fell silent. "Thank you. Now, how are we distributing this cure?"

"There is something. The Shroud. It's the tower we used to, uh, spread the original genophage," Victus said.

“Shroud, yes. Could finish synthesising cure, disperse it,” Mordin said.

“Like I’d trust a salarian doctor to get this done,” Wrex said darkly.

“You don’t have a choice, Wrex,” Shepard said. “Without Mordin, there’s no cure.”

“There’s just one problem,” Victus said.

“Just the one?” Shepard asked, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“There’s a huge damn Reaper in front of it,” Wrex said.

“Astutely put, Wrex. We’ll need an assault on two fronts if we’re to pull this off,” Shepard said. “Primarch, we’re going to need your help.”

“I don’t have any men to spare, we need them on Palaven,” Victus protested.

“We’re doing this _for_ Palaven,” Shepard replied.

“...very well.”

“Then we’re agreed. Make whatever preparations you need, and then we’ll hit the ground running.”

“Commander, there’s a call for you in the comm room,” Traynor called. 

It was, unfortunately, the salarian dalatrass. Joy of joys.

"Commander Shepard," the dalatrass said.

"Dalatrass, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

“By now, I’m sure Mordin Solus has suggested using the Shroud to spread the genophage cure. I have an alternative suggestion for you. A request, if you will.”

“Do tell,” Shepard said.

“We put measures in place to ensure that what you are trying to do could never happen. Solus will find these fail safes and override them. I ask that you stop him from doing so,” the dalatrass said.

“You want me to sabotage the cure?”

“The krogan would never know the difference,” the dalatrass said disdainfully.

“I count krogan among my closest friends and allies, and you would have me ruin any chance they have at a cure?”

“They do not know the meaning of the word friend.”

“I’m beginning to think that you don’t either, dalatrass,” Shepard snapped, her fuse growing shorter by the minute.

“When this is over, do you imagine they will go peacefully? We raised them up for their violent tendencies, not their diplomacy. When this war is over, they will rebel, and they will destroy the galaxy in their wake,” the dalatrass said, cold as ice.

“Species evolve, dalatrass. For instance, I have it on good authority that salarians used to eat flies,” Shepard said. “Whatever the krogan were, you have no control or say over it now.”

“You will live to regret your decision on this matter, Commander.”

“As will you, dalatrass.” Shepard disconnected the call. She massaged at her temples, willing the oncoming headache to go away. There wasn't any goddamn time. She had to go. It was time to cure the genophage.

As they rode on the shuttle there, Shepard tried to tell Eve and Wrex about the dalatrass’ request, but she was interrupted by the arrival of a horde of husks. Always with the husks.

“Wrex, go, I’ve got Eve covered,” Shepard said, and she was pleasantly surprised when Wrex actually listened to her for once. He’d barely even done that when he was under her direct command.

Shepard, Garrus, and Liara shielded Eve as they made their way into the krogan meeting hall, stopping any husks that tried to get past them. As the last enemy fell, more krogan began to appear, each bearing different clan markings. And they didn’t look particularly pleased when they saw Mordin.

"What's a salarian doing here?" one of them - Urdnot Wreav, demanded.

"He's here to cure the genophage," Wrex snapped.

"His kind _made_ the genophage," Wreav yelled. And then, the echoing sound of footsteps descending the stairs.

 _“Enough.”_ Eve said, her voice reverberating through the hall. Shepard watched, transfixed, as she spoke to the gathered krogan. “For too long, we krogan have been wrapped up in our petty squabbles. The genophage ends today. An enemy comes that threatens us all, and I will not sit idly by as they bend the galaxy to their will. Which of you has enough spine to join me?”

Shepard had already decided she’d go to hell for this woman, and now she was getting her chance.

“I’m with you,” she said without hesitation. And as they travelled in the convoy to the Shroud, Shepard revealed the dalatrass’ treachery to Eve, Wrex, and Mordin. Without hesitation.

“You’ve spared our people another genocide today, Commander. Thank you,” Eve said.

“I told you we could trust her,” Wrex replied. Shepard smiled warmly at them, and then the truck came to a standstill. _Shit._ It wasn’t a mission until at least three things went wrong. The first was that the road had been destroyed, and the trucks weren’t able to proceed. But it was too late for the turian pilots to pull up, and so they went up against a Reaper alone.

And then one of the ships got hit, and came hurtling out of the sky towards the trucks.

“Wrex, get Eve out of here _now,”_ Shepard snapped, and she threw herself to the side. There was a cacophony of wheels hitting tarmac, of shrapnel flying, and then silence. 

“Everybody alive?” Shepard asked, her ears ringing.

“Yes,” Liara said.

“Feels like I went through a shredder, but I’m alive,” Garrus griped. Shepard glanced around. There was wreckage to every side of her, but a portion of the wall had crumbled, revealing a pitch-black cave. Again. The passage was dark, but it seemed to be their best and only option. There was a chasm between Shepard and the cave, which she easily leaped across, and then helped Liara and Garrus to cross. She switched on her flashlight, and into the dark they went.

“Shepard, we made it out, where are you?” Wrex radioed, his words distorted with static.

“It looks like we’re in some kind of...ruins?” Shepard said.

“The civilization of the ancient krogan,” Eve explained. The ground shook violently beneath Shepard’s feet, sending twinges of pain shooting up her bad leg. 

“Wrex, what the hell else is down here?” Shepard asked. 

“Kalros,” Eve breathed.

“Oh, I don’t like the sound of that,” Garrus said. 

“She’s the biggest thresher maw in existence,” Wrex explained.

“I really do _not_ like the sound of that,” Garrus said. The ground shook again. 

“What’s the matter, Garrus?” Shepard asked. “Scared of a little thresher maw?”

“No, actually, I’m scared of the _biggest thresher maw in existence,”_ he replied.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Shepard said, although she had her own misgivings about Kalros. No point letting the others know that, though. They had enough problems without adding on her own deep seated dislike for fighting thresher maws. Her kingdom for a heavily-armoured military vehicle.

“I see light. I think we’ve found the surface,” Liara said. Shepard inhaled sharply. She'd never seen greenery on Tuchanka before, only harsh, sun-baked wreckage. But here there were trees stubbornly clawing their way out of the dust, grass growing out of the cracks of a long-dead temple. It was beautiful. The relief was short-lived. They were immediately set upon by husks, cannibals, rachni, and if that wasn’t bad enough, a couple of brutes thrown in for good measure.

“I'm really starting to hate this place,” Garrus muttered.

"Shepard! Kalros giving chase," Mordin called frantically over the comms.

"We'll try to keep her off you," Wrex added.

"Be careful," Shepard warned. She fell back behind one of the many statues that decorated the ruins. It was difficult to reconcile the architecture of the temple with the Tuchanka that she knew. Hell, Wrex's home base was barely holding together. It certainly didn't have solid gold statues. A shot from a marauder caught her in the arm, and she decided that she could reflect on the follies of time later.

“Shepard, we’ve got an idea for how to deal with that Reaper!” Wrex shouted over the comms.

“I notice that you didn’t say it was a good idea, Wrex,” Shepard replied.

“Only one way to find out!”

“Mordin, Eve, did you two agree to...whatever it is?”

“Eve’s idea,” Mordin said. Which meant that of course Shepard was going to go along with it.

Eve’s idea, it turned out, was to summon Kalros using the hammers on either side of the giant arena that the Reaper waited in. Kalros would arrive, and she would fight the Reaper. It was a great plan, in theory. The problem was that it hinged on Shepard _running past a Reaper,_ in order to summon the biggest thresher maw in existence. 

"Shepard, look alive, your chariot's here!" Wrex bellowed, and the truck pulled up next to her, the ground shaking violently beneath it. Kalros wasn't far behind, and once Shepard and the others were inside, the driver hit the pedal to the metal so hard that Shepard was thrown off balance. Garrus caught her and helped her find her footing. Once she was steady, he let go of her. 

"Why is there a giant maw outside of this tower?" Shepard asked, still reeling. "I've heard of dragons guarding princesses, but this feels a little bit much."

"Used to discourage spread of cure," Mordin explained. "Very successful, until now."

“They say Kalros is the mother from which all other thresher maws are born,” Eve explained. 

"Of course she is," Shepard said wryly. "When we pull this off, I expect you to name your firstborn child after me."

“We’ll name the first five after you, if you want,” Wrex said. “You've been a champion of the krogan, a friend of Clan Urdnot...and a sister to me. From this day forward, among the krogan the word “Shepard” will mean “hero”!”

Shepard felt tears pricking at her eyes, and she brushed them away. She needed clear vision for what was to come next. Because holy shit, she was about to try and run circles around a damn Reaper. She cracked her knuckles.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” she said, and Wrex grinned widely. Eve and Mordin went to finish synthesizing the cure, and Shepard went to meet her destiny.

She’d always had a gift for running, and this was no exception. Her leg was still sore, but the adrenaline that rushed through her at the sight of the Reaper more than made up for it. Brutes began to drop in her path, trying to bulldoze through her, but she activated her tactical cloak, and she ran like it was the end of the world. In a way, it was. 

She could feel her legs burning, but she kept pushing. She slammed the first hammer, the sound echoing across the arena. One of the Reaper’s legs came slamming down next to her, and she just barely threw herself out of the way in time. Two brutes whipped around to face her, and Shepard swore softly. 

“Shepard! What’s taking so long?” Wrex demanded.

“There’s a Reaper in my way, Wrex!” she yelled.

“I know! You have all the fun!” Shepard hissed as she hauled herself back up, and slipped back into invisibility. She charged directly at the brutes, nimbly sliding under their swinging arms a moment before they hit her. And then she ran. Ran, and made it to the opposite end of the arena in a handful of seconds. The sound of the hammer rang out, and for a moment, the world froze. Almost in slow motion, Shepard watched as Kalros, the mother of thresher maws, launched herself at the Reaper.

Oh, _hell yeah._ Shepard knew she didn’t have time to watch the epic battle, but damn did she want to. Instead, she turned and booked it as fast as she could towards the Shroud. She found Mordin there, and he reassured her that Eve was fine.

“The cure’s ready?” Shepard asked.

“Yes, just need to install it, and genophage over,” he said.

“Shall we?”

“We shall.”

They went up the Shroud together, Shepard watching Mordin's back in case there were any lingering threats. The cure fell like snow, gently floating from the sky. Shepard sent Mordin back with Garrus and Liara, and she went to meet Wrex and Eve. The genophage was cured. 

“You have proven yourself an ally to the krogan, and we will be there with you when you retake Earth. And know that Urdnot Bakara calls you a friend,” Eve-- Bakara, said Shepard didn’t have the words for that, and so she didn’t say anything at all.

...

Garrus was only on the ship for a moment before Victus summoned him to the war room. Garrus saluted, and Victus returned the gesture.

“Vakarian, good work out there. I have a favour to ask,” Victus said, but his sub vocals sounded too close to command for it to be a request.

“A favour, sir?” Garrus said.

“I’m going to send some of our scientists to work on the Crucible. I need you to oversee their transfer.”

“Yes, sir.”

Shepard arrived a few minutes later, and Victus told her about his plan. She nodded absently. There were dark circles carved under her eyes, worse than Garrus had ever seen them before, her knuckles bleached white from her grip on the war table. She was being inexorably worn down, like a cliff face worn away by the sea.

“When’s the last time you slept?” he asked, after Victus left. She looked at him sharply, and then turned back to the plans for the Crucible.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” she replied.

“That’s not an answer,” he said. “And you’re no good to anyone if you pass out midway through a mission.”

“God, you sound just like--” she stopped, her muscles tensing. He didn’t push.

“Go get some rest, I’ll wake you if anything comes up,” he said gently.

“I can’t.”

“There’s really nothing for you to do right now--”

“No, I mean I can’t sleep,” she whispered, and the set of her jaw told him that every word cost her. It wasn’t so very long ago that the war had begun, but the Joan he saw now was light-years away from the one he’d met on Palaven. They still hadn’t had that discussion. Never enough time. 

“Do you...do you want company?” he asked softly. She considered him for a moment.

“Yes,” she said at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bioware can meet me in the thresher maw arena, I'm NOT letting Grunt's crew die, and I'm NOT letting Mordin die
> 
> Btw, I'm planning to go through and revise and edit the first few chapters, just as a heads up!


	29. Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Downtime between missions.

_She said, "I don't need a sponsor_

_Or the best lover_

_Some man that sees me_

_As some fixer-upper._

_The last few years_

_I've been running for cover_

_Trying to sleep_

_So I can visit my mother."_

-Leather Jacket, The Arkells

It was quiet, in Shepard’s cabin. There was the ever-present soft humming of the Normandy, the occasional squeaks from Mako’s cage, and an expectant silence. Shepard and Garrus stood opposite one another, hands hanging awkwardly at their sides. The tension of the past few days lingered like an uninvited guest.

“I-- we need to talk,” Shepard said. 

“Sleep first?” Garrus asked. She opened her mouth to say something else, but no words came. What he wouldn’t give to know what the hell she was thinking right now.

“Okay,” she said at last. “Okay, I’ll grab my pajamas then.”

Garrus settled down on the couch to wait for her, flipping through some of the reports the Primarch had sent, not really registering the words. Shepard stepped out of the bathroom a few moments later, her red hair tumbling down her shoulders. Tentatively, she sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Are you going to stay over there?” she asked.

“Yes?”

“Oh.” _Oh?_ He looked up from his reports, and he found her staring at him. The blue light from the empty aquarium played across her face, obscuring the deep shadows under her eyes, the scars that seemed to multiply by the day. He wished, suddenly, that he was an artist. Someone should paint this woman.

“Do you want me to join you?” he asked.

“You did offer to keep me company,” she said wryly. 

They were neither of them the same people they’d been after the Omega 4, but his feelings hadn’t changed. Would probably never change. And so before she could change her mind, he was beside her. She settled down next to him, curling in on herself. Tentatively, he ran a hand through her hair, sprawled across the pillow. She hummed lightly, and he did it again. Her breathing evened out, falling into a gentle, soothing rhythm.

He realized with a start that she was snoring, softly. It was, perhaps, the most adorable thing he’d ever heard. She’d turned over in her sleep, her arm haphazardly thrown across him. He was never going to move again. Very well, if this is how he died then so be it. There were worse places to be than held in the arms of the love of his life.

He’d never seen her so peaceful, and it made his heart ache. This would be gone, when she woke. This Joan, his Joan, would slip away into Commander Shepard. He wanted so badly to take some part of her burden, had been trying to do that all week. He wished she could look like this when she was awake. He wanted to give that happiness to her. 

There was a ring, tucked away in the main battery. It was inlaid with a scattering of stained glass, like the small fragment that she thought none of the others knew about. Hell, he might never give it to her. But it was there, all the same.

...

When she woke, Garrus’ hand was gently entangled in her hair. Her arms were wrapped around him, but at some point he’d stuck a pillow between her face and his sharp carapace. She realized, not for the first time, that she could be quite happy waking up like this for the rest of her life. Granted, her life expectancy wasn’t exactly looking great at the moment. No time like the present then, she supposed.

“How long was I out?” she rasped, her voice hoarse with sleep.

“A few hours,” he replied. She wasn't certain if she believed him.

“No life or death emergencies since then?”

“Oh, only about a dozen or so. Traynor and EDI handled them, no problem. You can go back to sleep.”

“If I sleep any longer, my body’s going to short-circuit. I haven’t slept more than an hour in weeks.” She wound her arms tighter around him. A younger Shepard would have balked at the intimacy. But then, a younger Shepard had ended up dead through her stubborn martyr streak.

“That’s a funny way to say that you should go back to sleep,” he said, chuckling.

“I’m fine. Better than fine, actually,” she said. The chorus of aches and pains hadn’t started up yet. 

“Well, since you’re awake now, I suppose we should get back to work,” he said.

“Mmhmm,” she hummed softly. Neither moved. 

“You said you wanted to talk…?” he ventured.

“Yes.” She realized, suddenly, that she had no idea where to begin. He misread her hesitation as reluctance.

“If it’s not a good time, it can wait--”

“No, no it’s fine,” she said. She let go of him and hauled herself up, her joints creaking in protest. Damn it, she was too young to be this old. “Before we start, there’s something I need to make very clear.”

“Oh, that doesn’t sound good,” he said. She gently rested a hand on top of his, a vain attempt to soften her next words.

“I understand that you care about me,” she said slowly, “but I need you to trust that I can handle myself. I can’t have you second-guessing me out in the field. And I certainly can’t have you risking your life to protect me.” His mandibles flared, but he didn’t pull away.

“You do the same thing for me. Constantly. How is that different?” he asked, his voice low.

“Not fair, Vakarian, I’m in charge here. That’s my job.”

 _“Bullshit,_ Shepard. You’re running yourself ragged out there. If I don’t take care of you, you’re sure as hell not going to.” Too damn close to the voice he'd used on Palaven. Too damn close to an order.

“That's not for you to decide,” she snapped. His face fell, and Shepard felt an immediate wave of regret. Damn it, she didn’t _do_ feelings. She'd never been good at being loved. God, what would Geraldine say she should do? She didn’t know.

“Garrus,” she tried again, “my independence is vitally important to me.”

“And I’m not trying to take it away from you,” he protested.

“Not intentionally,” she said. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Try me,” he said. “Joan, please. I just want to help.” Gently, he took her hand away from her face and held it in his own. He looked so earnest. She breathed in, breathed out.

“What do you know about me, Garrus?” she asked.

“You drive with all the grace of a wrecking ball?” he joked, clearly attempting to lighten the mood. Shepard rolled her eyes.

“I take it back, you can leave now,” she said, pretending to pull away. He reached forward, his hands wrapping firmly around her waist, tugging her against him. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he said. “Let’s see. I know you dance like an elcor on roller skates. I know you live almost exclusively on coffee, which you always add a dash of cinnamon to. I know--”

“Facts, Garrus,” she said, laughing, “what _facts_ do you know about me?”

“Alright, well, those are both facts, but fine. I know you were in the N7 program, and before that you were on Earth. In a gang, I think? The leader harassed us at Chora’s Den,” he said.

“The Tenth Street Reds, yes. They took me in when I was a kid...” and so on. Shepard told him everything, nothing held back. The Reds, Jeanne, Anderson, and Marie. Marie most of all. He rubbed small circles on her back as she spoke. 

“Marie, she’s back on Earth still?” Garrus asked.

“Yeah,” she whispered. She felt his arms tighten around her. “I know what it’s like to be helpless, Garrus. I won’t let it happen again. You protecting me...it feels like a cage.”

“That’s not my intention. Hell, Joan, you’re the most capable person I’ve ever met. I just...you don’t need to do everything alone anymore, you know?”

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” she said quietly. He hummed softly, still rubbing her back. She leaned against him, shutting her eyes. 

“If I dial back on the protectiveness, will you let me take care of you, just a little bit?” he asked after a few minutes. “Please? Someone needs to tell you to sleep more than once a month.”

“We’ll need to set some boundaries, but...yeah. Yeah, I could do that,” she said. He pressed his forehead against the side of her head.

“Spirits, I cannot believe you let me complain about how bad my life was,” he mumbled against her hair. She couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up.

 _“That’s_ your takeaway?” she said.

“Well, no. Actually, I’m just shocked that you want to share these things with _me,_ of all people,” he replied. And that was just about enough of _that._ There was already enough insecurity in this relationship, if that's what this was. She shuffled around so that she could see him. She gently rested her hands to either side of his face, careful not to hurt the scars.

“There’s no one else that I’d rather share this with,” she said. And then, before her brain could catch up to her damn mouth: “I lo--”

“Commander, the salarian councilor is in the briefing room. He says it’s urgent,” Traynor called over the comms, cutting her off. Which was just as well, really, because _what the hell Joan??_

“Tell him I’ll be right down,” Shepard said. Garrus’ arms tightened around her as she tried to get up. 

“What were you going to say?” he asked breathlessly.

“Another time,” she said. His hands threaded through her hair, bringing her face inches from his.

“Please?” he whispered hoarsely. She pressed a quick, chaste kiss to his mouth. When he eagerly leaned forward, she gently pressed a hand to his chest, keeping him back.

“Later,” she said more firmly, extricating herself from his arms. She went into the bathroom to change into her regular clothes. She braided her hair back, the familiar tugging against her scalp suddenly too similar to his hands entwining in her hair. She exhaled shakily. Holy shit, was she in love with Garrus? When the hell had that happened? She cared about him, yes, but love, oh. Love was a whole other, terrifying prospect, and she needed time that she didn’t have to process that. 

“I’ll, uh, see you later,” she said, as she stepped out of the bathroom. He nodded absently, and the rest of her words died on her tongue. 

Cursing herself for a fool in every language she knew, she left. Granted, she’d never been much of a linguist, but it didn’t take long to pick up swear words in her line of work. She followed the now-familiar path to the briefing room. The hologram of the councilor flickered to life.

“Councilor, how can I help?” Shepard asked politely.

“Commander, finally. I want to offer you a warning,” he said. Never a promising way to start a meeting. “It’s about Udina. He’s been receiving vast amounts of money from an anonymous source, and there are whispers...well, this is perhaps best discussed in person. Come to the Citadel as soon as possible.”

“I’m surprised you want to speak with me, after Tuchanka,” she said. The councilor tsked.

“I don’t agree with your actions, Commander, but you did save my life before. I owe you this,” he said.

“Very well, I’ll leave immediately for the Citadel immediately,” she said, and the call disconnected. Well. That was shorter than she'd expected. There were other missions she’d wanted to do first, but she supposed they could wait. Well, she hadn’t checked in with EDI and Joker in a while. She might as well go tell them about the change in plans in person.

As Shepard approached the bridge, she heard, of all things, Garrus and Joker trading jokes back and forth. She hung back, listening.

“What does an Alliance officer say at the beginning of combat?” Garrus asked.

“Uh...I give up,” Joker said.

“Correct!” Garrus said cheerfully. Shepard had to stifle a laugh. 

“Alright smart guy, how do you know a turian’s out of ammo?” Joker asked.

“He switches to the stick up his ass as a backup weapon,” Garrus said immediately. “C’mon, that’s an easy one.”

“You think you can do better?” Joker said.

“Oh, absolutely. Why does the Alliance hire pilots with brittle bone disease?” There was a moment of shocked silence.

“You’re shitting me, the turian military has one about me?” Joker asked incredulously.

“Absolutely, heard it myself from a private back on Palaven,” Garrus replied

“I’ll bite, why does the Alliance hire pilots with brittle bone disease?”

“So that their marines can beat someone in hand-to-hand combat.”

“You have _got_ to tell that one to James,” Joker said, cackling. “Hey, what’s the hardest part about treating a turian that took a rocket to the face?”

“Figuring out which side took the rocket,” Garrus finished. And so on. Shepard was loath to interrupt them, but time waited for no one.

“You boys playing nice?” she asked, stepping forward.

“I always play nice,” Joker said. Shepard snorted derisively.

“Uh huh,” she said. “Anyways, I need you to set a course for the Citadel.”

“But we were just there to say hi to Ashley _again--_ ”

“Little less back-talk, Moreau. Council’s orders,” Shepard said.

“The Council ordered me to talk back less? Somehow, I doubt that,” he said. Shepard heard Garrus snort, and her eyes flicked to his face, eyebrows raised. He unsuccessfully tried to pass it off as a cough. 

“Say, Joker, you’re overdue for your appointment with Dr. Chakwas, aren’t you? If you’d like to get that done first, I’d understand,” she said dryly. 

“Alright, alright, I’m going. Jeez,” he said. Shepard felt Garrus’ hand on her arm.

“Got a minute?” Garrus asked.

...

“Well, no. Actually I’m just shocked that you want to share these things with _me,_ of all people,” he replied. He was mostly joking. She shuffled around so that she could see him, her legs falling to either side of his. His arms immediately came up to rest on her hips, like they belonged there. She gently rested her hands to either side of his face.

“There’s no one else that I’d rather share this with,” she said seriously, and his heart stuttered. “I lo--” Oh. _Oh._

“Commander, the salarian councilor is in the briefing room. He says it’s urgent,” Traynor called over the comms, cutting her off. Shepard looked the way Garrus had felt, those long months ago, in the mess hall late at night. Like a deer in the headlights.

“Tell him I’ll be right down,” Shepard said. He wasn’t letting go of her that easily.

“What were you going to say?” he asked breathlessly.

“Another time,” she said. His hands threaded through her hair, bringing her face inches from his. He desperately needed to kiss her. 

“Please?” he whispered hoarsely. She smiled that wry, crooked smile of hers, and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to his mouth. He eagerly leaned forward, but he felt a gentle pressure on his chest, pushing him back.

“Later,” she said more firmly, extricating herself from his arms. She left to go change, and he felt the loss of her warmth like a knife.

Spirits, what the hell had just happened? Was she...was she going to say that she loved him? Was that wishful thinking? His head was spinning. He barely registered it when she stepped back out of the bathroom.

“I’ll, uh, see you later.” And she was gone, before he could form a coherent sentence. After a few more minutes of wallowing in self-pity, he managed to collect himself enough to stand up. He absentmindedly dropped some food in Mako’s cage, and he wandered to the elevator. He wasn’t in any kind of a mood to calibrate firing algorithms. He badly needed a distraction.

He recognized the sound of her footsteps as she walked towards the bridge. He was sorely tempted to tell one of the jokes he’d heard about her, but he held back. Speaking with the Council rarely put her in a good mood. Maybe later. 

But her voice was light, as she bickered back and forth with Joker. Probably because she’d slept for more than ten minutes, he thought wryly.

“Little less back-talk, Moreau. Council’s orders,” Shepard said.

“The Council ordered me to talk back less? Somehow, I doubt that,” Joker replied. Garrus snorted, and Shepard glanced over at him, arching an eyebrow. He hastily covered it up as a cough.

“Say, Joker, you’re overdue for your appointment with Dr. Chakwas, aren’t you? If you’d like to get that done first, I’d understand,” she said dryly. 

“Alright, alright, I’m going. Jeez,” Joker said. Bracing himself for rejection, Garrus rested a hand on Shepard’s arm.

“Got a minute?” he asked. To his very great surprise, she nodded. He knew what he wanted, desperately, to ask her. But there were too many people around. Not the right time. Never the right time, he supposed.

“How are you feeling about Tuchanka? I never thought I’d see the day that the turians and the krogan worked together,” he said. 

“It feels good to do the right thing,” she replied.

“You keep on like this, Shepard, and they’re going to make you a saint,” he said. Her smile faltered, but she kept it in place.

“I think that would give the dalatrass a heart attack,” she said. “If she has a heart, that is. I’m not convinced.”

“You never considered the dalatrass’ offer?” he asked.

“My biggest regret is that I didn’t tell the dalatrass exactly _where_ she could shove it,” she said, her eyes twinkling. He fell just a little bit more in love with her. Hell, he didn’t know when the end was coming, but he could wait for her. He could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost 80,000 words in and they're almost there......almost


	30. Poisoned Blades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Priority: Citadel II

It was silent, as they docked at the Citadel. Silent, until it wasn’t. Garrus, Shepard, and EDI were sprayed with a hail of gunfire as Cerberus agents began to pour in from every side. Garrus and Shepard took cover behind an Alliance shuttle.

“I’m going to kill the Illusive Man myself,” Shepard said, and Garrus saw white-hot rage glowing in her eyes. 

“I think you’ll need to get in line,” he said. Her answering grin was feral, all teeth. 

“The more the merrier,” she said, and she tossed an explosive at a group of Cerberus agents. She darted forward, and Garrus lost sight of her. He settled in behind the shuttle and cued up his battle playlist. _Die for the Cause_ buzzed through his ears, and he cracked his neck from side to side. _Alright. Let’s go._ He aimed a shot at a Cerberus engineer. Before he could fire, the engineer was hit by a blast from his own turret, hacked by Shepard.

“Damn it, Shepard, that was my kill!” Garrus shouted

“Too slow, Vakarian,” she shot back. He settled back into cover. They were met by wave after wave of Cerberus agents. Damn it, where the hell did Cerberus find all these people? After what felt like hours, but was probably only minutes, the room was empty.

“Shepard? That you?”

“Bailey? You in one piece?” Shepard called.

“Not for those bastards lack of trying,” Bailey groaned. Garrus helped him to his feet. There was an ugly gash along his stomach.

“Medi-gel?” Garrus asked. 

“I’ve had worse.” Bailey waved him away and opened the door to C-Sec. “We were the first ones hit. They took out our communications network so we couldn’t organize a response. They had help on the inside. And when I find the sorry bastard, I’m going to make him wish he’d never been born.”

“Got any good news?” Shepard asked.

“Yeah: you’ve got me,” Bailey said. He limped over to a computer terminal. “I’ll keep an eye from here and clear the way for you.”

“Much appreciated,” Shepard said, and she slid him one of her guns. “I want that back, mind.”

“Give ‘em hell for me,” Bailey said.

“Always do.”

Casualties covered the ground like snow. Garrus didn’t want to look, couldn’t stop himself from looking. Because these were C-Sec headquarters, and those were his friends littered across the ground. Bruised, broken, shot down without warning. Omega all over again. More people he hadn’t been able to protect.

“Shit, Simmons, you alive? Paisley? Kas? _Shit.”_ He felt his legs give out, and he hit the ground hard. _Nononono._

“Garrus,” Shepard said softly. He felt her hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“I used to work with them,” he said brokenly.

“I know,” she said. “I know, but if we don’t move, their deaths means nothing.”

 _This is the hardest sacrifice to ask for, I know. But all this death, it means nothing unless you defuse that bomb. You’re not out of the fight yet._ How many times had she given the same speech?

“They were working desk jobs, damn it, they shouldn’t have died like this,” he snapped.

“No one should die like this.”

...

Blood coated the walls like paint, and silence clung to the air like smoke, choking. Shepard scouted ahead, quietly gunning down the stray Cerberus agents that she came across. And then she heard a cry. Garrus. _Shit._ She doubled back, her feet pounding against the ground as she ran. 

“Shit, Simmons, you alive? Paisley? Kas? _Shit.”_ Garrus was slumped on the ground. Shepard winced at the pain in his voice. It was only going to be worse from here. 

“Garrus,” she said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“I used to work with them,” he said, and her heart broke just a little bit more.

“I know,” she said. “I know, but if we don’t move, their deaths means nothing.”

“They were working desk jobs, damn it, they shouldn’t have died like this,” he snapped.

“No one should die like this,” she said, and she helped him to his feet. They continued through the Citadel, on the way to the salarian councilor. Shepard wondered, bitterly, if this could’ve been avoided if the Council had paid attention to her warnings sooner. 

Shepard spotted the salarian councilor, and she raced towards him. A figure dropped from the ceiling, creeping up on the salarian councilor. He raised his blade high, and brought it slashing down. Shepard wasn’t going to make it in time.

But Thane was. Thane knocked the councilor out of the way, dodged the sword easily. He and the assassin wrestled for a moment, and Thane shot him in the leg. The assassin brought his sword up and drove it through Thane.

 _“NO.”_ Shepard screamed. She launched herself at the assassin, tackling him to the ground. He brought his sword up again, slicing through her armour and into her arm. She hissed with pain and he kicked her off of him. He took off running, leaping onto a waiting shuttle. Shepard put a hand to her ear.

“My friend needs medical help _now,_ and I need transport,” she snapped.

“There should be some sky cars near you,” Bailey said. Shepard heard Garrus groan. She ignored him. She felt a hand on her arm.

“Shepard, before you go: Udina has the rest of the Council with him. I believe that he’s the Cerberus mole. You need to get to them now,” the salarian councilor said.

“Yes sir,” Shepard said. “Get yourself to safety.”

“I’ll look after your friend,” he said. 

“I-- thank you, councilor,” she said, and then it was time to go. She climbed into the first sky car she found, motioning for EDI and Garrus to get in. For once, Garrus didn’t say anything about her driving. Small mercies. Shepard immediately pushed the pedal into the floor, sending the car rocketing into the air. Beside her, Garrus looked ill. 

“Any sign of the assassin?” Bailey asked. Shepard glanced in her rearview mirror. Sure enough, there was a Cerberus shuttle.

“You just had to jinx it, huh?” Shepard said. The shuttle knocked into them. Shepard knocked back hard. The car shuddered, and Shepard heard footsteps above her.

“That doesn't sound good,” Garrus said. Shepard looked out the window. The assassin had landed on top, and she didn’t like the look of his swords so close to the engine.

“We’ve got a hitchhiker. Take the wheel, Garrus,” she said shortly.

“Wait, Shepard--” he began, but she’d already opened the door to the sky car. She got a firm grip on the dashboard, and then leaned out of the door. She could feel the wind whipping through her hair, the plummeting drop beneath her. She fired a shot at the assassin, and by rights it should have hit him dead between the eyes, but the bastard threw up a barrier. Shepard fired again, and again, but it was no use. The assassin slammed his sword into the top of the sky car. He blithely stepped onto another shuttle as the sky car came crashing down. 

“Shit,” Shepard hissed, almost tumbling out of the car as it jerked from side to side. 

“Shepard!” Garrus cried.

“I’m fine,” she said, and she hauled herself back into her seat, slamming the door behind her. She put her hands back on the wheel, and began the losing battle of trying to negotiate her way out of a death by fiery crash. She pulled up as hard as she could, but the landing wasn’t pretty. It sent a nasty jolt of pain up her bad leg.

“Everyone alive?” she asked through gritted teeth.

“Ugh,” Garrus groaned. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Shepard said.

“I have sustained minimal damage. I would not recommend such a descent again,” EDI replied.

“What she said,” Garrus agreed. Shepard gave them a once over for injuries, but they seemed mostly okay.

“Bailey, I’m going to need a path to the Council,” she said.

“Working on it. There’s a hell of a lot of Cerberus in front of you,” Bailey replied.

“I’ll deal with that,” Shepard said, cracking her neck. 

And then someone came at her with a sword. She ducked to avoid the blade, but she wasn’t prepared for the legs that swept under her. Her left leg, weak at the best of times, went down. Shit, she was out of practice. It had been years since she’d actually fought someone wielding a sword. She desperately raised her arm to block the downward blow. It landed heavily against her armour, sending shockwaves up her arms. The phantom raised their sword again, and then they were knocked backward by a shot to the face.

“Commander, are you alright?” EDI asked, offering a hand.

“A little bruised, but nothing I can’t handle,” Shepard said. “Is that all of them?”

“For now,” Garrus said, coming up to them. Shepard nodded. After a moment’s consideration, she picked up the sword. It was light in her hands, impeccably balanced, warm to the touch. Shepard sheathed it and slung it across her back. No sense wasting perfectly good craftsmanship.

“Shepard, do you know how to use one of those things?” Garrus asked. Shepard hoisted herself onto a platform and held out a hand to help him up.

“N7 training. I can handle almost any weapon, and can fashion a weapon out of just about anything,” she explained.

“Right...in the same way that you can drive just about any vehicle?” he asked carefully.

“Got something to say, Vakarian?”

“Me? No. Absolutely not. Any sign of the assassin?”

“Bailey? What do you have?” Shepard asked.

“He’s getting into an elevator up ahead. I’ll rewire one for you,” Bailey said. _Fuck._

“Much obliged,” Shepard said. She rounded the next corner, and was greeted by a horde of Cerberus, including those horrible new sword-slinging phantoms. This day just got better and better. An atlas came across the plaza, and Shepard allowed herself a small smile. She lined up her shot, directly at the glass window that the pilot sat behind. As was rapidly becoming a habit, the glass shattered and the pilot slumped over. She tugged the pilot out and settled herself into the cockpit of the mech. Oh, yes. That was more like it. Let's see those phantoms come back from a missile. They battled their way up the stairs to the elevators.

“Your carriage awaits,” Bailey said. Shepard felt a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach. They were going to have to ride on top of the elevator. She stepped inside the elevator shaft and the elevator jerked beneath her, sending them shooting upwards. 

“Where’s the assassin?” Shepard asked.

“I’m making his elevator stop on every floor,” Bailey said.

“Nice.”

Despite her misgivings, Shepard found that she felt fine. Better than fine, actually. It was a heady mix of fear and exhilaration. Hell, maybe she should take the elevator like this all the time. None of the horrifying claustrophobia, just the wind in her hair and the freedom to shoot her SMG. The Cerberus agents that tried to hijack their car were easily taken care of.

“The Council is in the next one, you’ll need to jump on,” Bailey called. Shepard, Garrus, and EDI jumped across the chasm, sending the elevator rocking back and forth. Shepard could hear voices inside, but she couldn’t quite make them out. When the elevator came to a halt, she hauled open the emergency exit and dropped to the ground. It was a relief to be out in the open air.

“Shepard? What the hell’s going on?” Ash demanded, her gun pointing at Shepard’s head. Too familiar, that. Udina and the other councilors were behind Ash. Udina's hands were flying across a control panel. Shepard holstered her gun and held up her hands. 

“Cerberus is staging a coup, Ash. They’re in the elevator behind us. Udina’s working for them,” she explained.

“How do we know you’re telling the truth? Cerberus controlled you before,” Ash said.

“Ash,” Shepard said softly. Stumbling over Tennyson, her voice hoarse with tears.

“I’m going to regret this,” Ash muttered. She turned to face Udina, her gun trained on him. 

“No, you’re not,” Shepard replied. She picked her gun back up, pointing at Udina. “The salarian councilor asked me to come here. He said he had his suspicions about you, Udina.”

“Well. Well, too bad he isn’t here to confirm your story. He could be dead, for all we know,” Udina said.

“He isn’t. My friend saved him, at great personal cost. Now, step away from that control panel.” There was fear in Udina’s eyes.

“I’m a councilor. I’m above reproach. You’re the one with a checkered past,” he spat. The other councilors exchanged a glance.

“We mistrusted Shepard before, and it didn’t work out well for us,” the asari councilor said.

“No!” Udina screamed. 

“Step away!” Ash shouted. A bang echoed across the Presidium. Ash slowly lowered her gun as Udina slumped to the ground. 

“That’s twice now that you’ve saved our lives, Shepard,” the turian councilor said.

“Try not to make a habit of it, sir,” Shepard replied. Probably not the correct thing to say, but she'd just saved the Citadel. Again. They could cut her a little slack.

“Shepard!” Bailey called. “Cerberus have run away with their tail between their legs.”

“Glad to hear it,” Shepard said, relief flooding her. "Now, I've got to check on my friend." _And then take a nap._  
  


“I’m looking for a drell named Thane Krios,” Shepard said. She'd gone to the Huerta Memorial Hospital immediately, still bleeding and covered in armour. 

“We have a drell, although he’s not under that name,” the doctor replied.

“Please, I just need to know how he’s doing.”

“He’s doing well, all things considered. His son had the right blood type, and he’s responding well to transfusions. He’ll be on the mend for a while, but he should come out of this alright.”

“Thank you,” she said. She opened the door and stepped through. It looked bad, but she’d seen worse. Kolyat hovered to the side.

“Not much of a peaceful retirement,” Shepard said wryly. Thane turned his head and smiled.

“Shepard, it is good to see you,” he said, coughing weakly. 

“The salarian councilor wants to thank you for saving his life,” she said. 

“That assassin should be embarrassed. Beaten by a dying invalid,” Thane replied.

“Beaten by the best assassin this side of the galaxy,” Shepard corrected.

“Maybe so. Perhaps he should be honoured, then.”

“The doc said you’re doing well, how are you feeling?”

“Truly? Like I was run over by a truck. But Kolyat has saved my life, as he has in so many other ways.”

“The doctors saved your life,” Kolyat said quietly.

“They helped,” Thane agreed, smiling at his son. Kolyat rolled his eyes.

“It’s good to see you in one piece, Thane. When I saw you get wounded, I thought…” Shepard trailed off. Thane took her hand and squeezed it gently.

“Yes,” he said softly. “But I am well, and I suspect I have taken up enough of your time. I hear you have a galaxy to save.” Shepard smiled ruefully. 

“If you need anything at all, you bill it to me, alright?” she said.

“The salarian councilor has already extended that same offer,” Kolyat said. 

“He can arm wrestle me for it,” Shepard replied. Thane laughed, sharply cut off by a coughing fit.

"I know who I would favour in that fight," he said.

“Until next time, Thane,” she said.

“Kalahira guide you, Shepard,” he rasped. Shepard gave his hand a quick squeeze, and she left. Back up through those godforsaken elevators, to the Normandy docking bay. There was a familiar face waiting for it, still peppered with scars. Ash. 

“Hey,” Shepard said quietly.

“Hey,” Ash said. “Can we talk?”

“Of course, what’s going on?”

“Admiral Hackett’s offered me a position on his ship. It’s a great offer, but...I’d rather ride out the rest of this war on the Normandy,” Ash said. Shepard couldn’t help the grin that broke across her face. 

“It’d be an honour to have you, LC. Try and keep the guns pointed at the enemies this time, okay?”

“Yes ma’am. That’s the first and last time I threaten to shoot my superior officer.”

“Oh, the day is young. It’s good to have you back, Ash.”

“Good to be back, Shepard.”


	31. The Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shooting contest on the Citadel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all already know

_I didn't know what life was till_

_I found you_

_Am I wasting my time?_

_Until I found you_

_Going out of my mind_

_Until I found you_

_I need you back here tonight_

-Until I Found You, Who’s Molly?

 _Meet me at the Normandy docking bay_ , Garrus' message had said. All things considered, it probably shouldn’t have surprised him to see Shepard already waiting there for him. She'd always been an early riser. She was leaning casually against a wall, her arms crossed in her N7 leather jacket.

“What’s the plan?” she asked.

“It’s a surprise,” he said, in a voice that he desperately hoped was suave and confident. Spirits, this would be so much easier if she could stop looking at him with that crooked smile.

“Alright then, Vakarian. Surprise me,” she said, and the twinkle in her eyes had to be illegal. He motioned for her to get into one of the sky cars. She automatically opened the driver’s side, and he cleared his throat pointedly.

“You’re no fun,” she complained, but she got into the passenger side. Garrus didn’t know what had possessed him to bring Shepard up to the top of the Presidium. Definitely not the thinking part of his brain. She needed a break. Maybe he needed one, too. 

“When I used to work at C-Sec, I always wanted to drive up here. But there were too many rules and restrictions,” he told her as they flew through the sky.

“Have the rules changed since then?” she asked.

“No. Now I just don’t give a damn,” he replied. Shepard rolled her eyes.

“You know if there’s one thing I love, it’s breaking rules,” she said sarcastically.

“Where’s your sense of adventure, Joan?” he asked.

“On vacation. It’s been getting a workout lately, it needs to lie down for a bit.”

“This will be worth it, I promise. Plus, who’s going to stop the people who saved the Citadel twice?”

“Oh, Vakarian, with luck like ours?” she said wryly. “That’s just asking for trouble.”

“Only one way to find out,” he said, and he set the sky car down on the roof of the Presidium. “See, that’s how you land a car.”

“Kiss my ass,” she suggested. There was something bittersweet about the view from the top of the Presidium. He used to look up here back in the day, when his friends were still alive. Pieces of the Citadel were still scorched, the normally immaculate white walls pockmarked. But the trees still flourished, dappled with light. The Citadel still glowed bright, despite everything.

“Hell of a view,” he said, glancing sideways at her. “And the Presidium's not bad either.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she teased.

“Hey now, I say it to the guys too,” he said, and her laugh was so bright. There was no natural sunlight on the Citadel, but if there was her smile would have put it to shame. Almost of its own accord, his hand found its way to her waist.

“It is a nice view. Be a lot nicer if you’d let me drive,” she replied.

“I’ve had enough near-death experiences lately, I don’t need another,” he said fervently.

“I land the Mako on a geth colossus one time, and suddenly I’m the worst driver in the world. Where’s the justice?”

“Joan, a few days ago you were hanging out the side of a sky car, not 20 feet from where we’re currently standing.”

“Extenuating circumstances,” she retorted.

“Extenuating-- we almost died!”

“But we didn’t,” she said cheerfully, and it was the crooked smile that did him in.

“I love you,” he blurted out. He felt her tense under his hands.

“Pardon?” she said weakly. Fuck it. In for a penny, in for a pound.

“I love you, Joan Shepard,” he said softly.

...

A part of her wanted to run, wanted to hide. Too much, too close. But this was Garrus. She trusted him more than almost anyone in the whole damn galaxy. She’d suffered enough, damn it. She deserved to be happy. And so Shepard stepped forward, and she cradled his face in her hands.

“And I love you, Garrus Vakarian,” she whispered. She heard him exhale sharply, his mandibles flaring.

“Spirits, that’s a relief. This would’ve been really awkward otherwise,” he said.

“Are you going to kiss me or not?” she asked wryly.

_“Please,” she rasped, and it was a prayer._

_“Please what, Shepard?”_

_“Kiss me,” she whispered, her voice hoarse._

“Now, Shepard, is that any way to talk to your boyfriend?” he asked. 

“‘Boyfriend’? Are we 15?” She was laughing. Giggling, really. She didn’t think she’d ever giggled before. The look Garrus was giving her was so soft, so exasperated. The galaxy might be going to hell in a handbasket, but this moment, oh. This moment was perfect. 

“We can hammer out the details later,” Garrus agreed, and he tugged her into his arms. He picked her up and spun her around until they were both dizzy. Her mouth found his, and for once she felt safe. Safe, and warm, and home. This was home. 

After what felt like a second, a millenia, they broke apart. She rested her head gently against his, her arms wrapped around his waist, his neck. Hopelessly tangled up in him.

“Credit for your thoughts?” she asked breathlessly.

“Nothing I could repeat in polite company,” he replied. 

"We're not exactly in polite company right now," she pointed out.

“Point taken,” he said, and kissed her again. “But before that, there’s one more thing we have to settle.” He stepped back and reached down into the bag he’d brought.

“Oh?” she asked, her heart stuttering. He pulled out her Widow, and a collection of cans. Well. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but it sure wasn't that.

“Who’s the best shot?” he said simply. She glanced down at the Widow, looked back up at him. 

“You know I’m the best sniper the N7 program has ever seen, right?” she asked. 

“Yeah, but that’s a human organization. Turians have been fighting for longer than your species has existed,” he replied, and a slow smile spread across her face.

“Wow, this has got to be the shortest a relationship has ever lasted,” she said wryly. He snorted.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily, Shepard. Now, are we going to have a shooting contest or not?” he asked.

“I look forward to handing your ass to you, Vakarian,” she said. “Winner drives back?”

“I--- hmm. Alright, you’ve got a deal.” He threw the first can, and she shot it down easily. 

“That was just a test,” he said, and she smiled crookedly. 

“Put up or shut up, Vakarian.” She threw one a reasonable distance, and he had no problem. 

“At least make it hard for me,” he scoffed. They switched back and forth, each throwing with increasingly more strength, each easily knocking it out of the sky. They were too evenly matched. Almost too evenly matched.

“This is it, Joan. No one alive can make this shot, not even the great Commander Shepard,” Garrus said. He threw the can as hard as he could, and it nearly vanished into the distance. 

In another life, she might’ve missed. Maybe if she’d chosen another career, had a different childhood, she might’ve aimed just a little bit too far to the left. There were a lot of maybes, a lot of what-ifs. But she was who she was, and Jeanne Shepard didn’t miss. She nailed it directly in the centre.

“Maybe no one alive can. Too bad I died,” she said dryly.

“Lucky shot,” he grumbled. She set down her rifle and tugged him close, grinning widely. His hands automatically came up to twine in her hair, tangling in her braid. 

“I get to drive back,” she whispered against his mouth. 

“That’s just rubbing salt in the wound,” he groaned.

“You’ll just have to get used to being the second best sniper in the galaxy,” she said brightly. 

“Fortunately I won’t have to live with the mortification long, I’m going to die from cardiac arrest in a few minutes.”

“Oh, I love you, Garrus.”

“You know? I could get used to hearing that. I love you too.”


	32. Loose Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the coup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the instant shot of serotonin i get when i finish a main mission and suddenly all of my companions have cutscenes is frankly unparalleled

“Commander, I trust you’ve had some time to rest since the Cerberus attack?” Hackett asked. Shepard had headed to the comm room after her meeting with Garrus on top of the Presidium. Her stomach was still doing acrobatics, but work was work, and Hackett needed to be briefed. It was a silver lining that Anderson was there too. 

“Yes, I’m sorry for not reporting in sooner, sir,” Shepard said.

“We’ve all gotta sleep sometimes, Shepard,” Anderson said. “Even you, believe it or not.”

“So I keep hearing,” she replied wryly. “Regardless, Cerberus was unsuccessful. I imagine the Illusive Man won’t be too pleased about that.”

“I heard you had a run-in with one of his agents: Kai Leng,” Anderson said.

“You know him?”

“Kahlee and I met him a long time ago. I could’ve sworn he was done for, then. If he’s alive, then I shudder to think what Cerberus did to bring him back.”

“Whatever it was, it was certainly a lot more intense than what they gave me,” she replied, her hand unconsciously lingering on the fresh scar on her arm, freshly bandaged.

“I’ll have Shepard send the files I have on him,” Anderson offered. Joan suspected that she’d be old and grey before she got used to hearing Marie being called Shepard. Still, it was better than General. Joan had almost had a stroke when she’d first heard that.

“I appreciate that. While we’re giving reminders, let her know she needs to sleep sometimes too. Liara keeps getting reports in the small hours of the morning,” she said with a small smile. Hackett cleared his throat pointedly. Shepard stood to attention.

“The quarians have said they’re willing to negotiate with us,” he said. “I’ve sent their location to your nav point.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll make it a priority.”

“See that you do. Keep me apprised of any developments. Hackett out.” Shepard saluted, and his hologram fizzled out. 

“You can stop saluting now, he’s gone,” Anderson said. Shepard relaxed, wincing at the creaking and groaning of her joints. Anderson caught the expression.

“Get some rest. Take the Normandy in for some repairs when you get a chance, too,” he said. 

“I’ll get around to it eventually,” she replied. “How are things over there?”

“We’re doing our best, but it’s not easy.”

“Getting any hits in?”

“Some. Mostly guerrilla-style hit and runs. It’s good to hear of your progress. Gives the kids in the trenches hope.”

“Happy to help,” she said.

“I mean it, Shepard. Most of these people have never held a gun in their lives. Hearing you made peace between the krogan and the turians? That’s a hell of a motivator to keep fighting.” _You keep on like this, Shepard, and they’re going to make you a saint._ When had that stopped being something she wanted?

“Take care of yourself out there, Anderson. And tell her the same thing.”

“I will. You too, Shepard.” And he was gone. Shepard rolled her head from side to side, working out the kinks in her neck. As she took the elevator up to her cabin, she wondered idly if turians were any good at massages. A thought for another time. Anyways, she suspected the talons would get in the way.

She was debating a shower, but her personal terminal was blinking on and off frantically. She carefully measured out Mako’s food and gave him a pat on the head. With a deep sigh, she sat down at her desk to go over her emails. Apparently every person in the local star system wanted a word with her. She called Liara up first.

“Shepard! There’s something I wanted your help with,” Liara said.

“Of course, what can I do for you?” Shepard asked.

They both sat down on the couch. Shepard leaned back, her aching muscles glad to have something soft to rest against. Liara stayed opposite her, bolt upright, her hands fidgeting in her lap. 

“It’s a bit personal,” Liara admitted.

“Try me,” Shepard replied easily.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about the protheans, and how they weren’t able to leave much information for the next cycle. I’ve created a kind of capsule. I’ve stored all of the information we have on the Crucible, and as much as I can about this cycle. My contacts are going to spread it in every star system in the galaxy. There’s just one entry that I need help with,” she said. She took a steadying breath. “Yours.”

“Mine?” 

“You’re leading the war effort, Shepard. We would not have gotten this far with anyone else,” Liara said seriously. 

“That might be a bit of a stretch. I’m sure you could’ve done it without me,” Shepard said lightly. Liara shook her head.

“I mean it,” she insisted. “I really don’t know how you do it.” Shepard shrugged.

“I don't have a lot of choice. I have a lot of people that depend on me. People I care about.”

“I hope I’m among them.”

“Of course you are,” Shepard said, resting her hand gently on top of Liara’s. Liara glanced down, her eyes crinkling. 

“That’s...thank you. But it still does not answer my question of what to put in your entry,” she said. 

“I think I’d like you to make the call, Liara,” Shepard said. “What would you say?”

Liara was quiet for a moment, her eyes still fixed on Shepard’s hands. “I’d say that Commander Shepard was unafraid in the face of adversity, that she held to her beliefs even when it would’ve been easier not to. That she wouldn’t let fear compromise who she was. And I would say that it was an honour to know her.” She took a ragged breath, her voice unsteady and stumbling. “Oh, Shepard, should I have gone with you, back on Illium?”

Shepard patted the couch next to her, and Liara scooted over. She wrapped an arm around her friend, tucking Liara’s head under her chin.

“You did what you had to do,” Shepard said. “If you’d come with me, we may never have found the plans for the Crucible.”

“Is that enough?”

“Of course it is. And you’re here now. That’s what counts.”

“I suppose I did just write your name in the stars,” Liara said thoughtfully. Shepard chuckled.

“For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you,” she said. She’d died once before with these things unsaid. She wasn’t going to risk that again.

“It’s worth more than you might think.”

They sat in companionable silence for some time, before Liara excused herself to get to work. Shepard stared longingly at the shower for a minute, but she shook her head. No time. She radioed James, letting him know he was clear to come up. Like Shepard, he had to duck to avoid hitting his head on the doorway. He took in the sight of the cabin, his unnecessarily large arms folded.

“This is nice,” he said appreciatively. “So this is what I can look forward to when I have my own command.”

“You want your own ship?” she asked, leaning back in her desk chair.

“Yeah, when I’m too old to actually fight,” he replied, and she scoffed. She didn’t remember getting nearly so much back-talk back in the old days. She couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not.

“You just come up here to insult your C.O., Vega?” she asked. “Because if so, door’s on the wall.”

“Sorry, boss,” he said, chuckling. “I actually had something I wanted to ask you about.”

“Well, this is certainly better than me having to beat it out of you,” she said dryly. “Shoot.”

“I’ve been asked to join the N7 program,” he told her. “The commendation came the day we left Earth.” Shepard arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a small smile. Marie always did work fast. 

“Congratulations, that’s an honour,” she said.

“Yeah.” His shoulders were slumped, his eyebrows knitted together. 

“Remind me to play poker with you sometime, looks like it would be an easy win,” she remarked. “What’s on your mind?”

“When you joined the program, did you have any doubts?” _There it is._

“Have a seat, Vega,” she said, not unkindly. She jerked a thumb to the couch. Vega squeezed in behind the coffee table, his legs knocking against it. Shepard sat opposite him, in much the same place Liara had. Two heart-to-hearts in one day. Marie would be delighted. “It’s a big decision. You get the best gear, best jobs. Even better than you get here, and this is the best damn ship in the Alliance. But the N7 program sure as hell isn’t easy. There’s a lot of things on my conscience that wouldn’t be there if I’d stayed in the regular ranks.”

“Do you ever regret it?” he asked.

“No,” she said immediately. “The pay increase is the only way I was able to get Marie off Earth. That’s worth every other damn thing I’ve had to do.”

“Everything?” Hundreds of thousands of lives hinging on her every move, her every word. Rows of blackboards stained white. 

“Yes,” she said, and there was no hesitation there.

“So you think I should take it?” It was strange to hear uncertainty from James.

“I think the program would be lucky to have you, Vega,” Shepard said. “Provided you stop disrespecting your superior officers.”

“With all due respect, boss, I’ve heard you talk to some of the top brass. You sure don’t have a lot of deference for people in positions of authority,” he replied. She chuckled softly. Far too much back-talk these days. A good thing, she decided.

“Have you met Lieutenant-Commander Williams yet?” Shepard asked. “She once said to me: “Why is it, when people say ‘with all due respect,’ they really mean ‘kiss my ass’?” I think you two would get on like a house on fire.”

“I like her already.”

“Granted, she did threaten me with a gun a few days ago.”

“I said what I said,” Vega said, grinning.

“Keep talking like that and I’m putting you back on the bench for the next few missions,” she said dryly. He held up his hands, a shit-eating grin still plastered across his face. Some of the tension had dissipated from his shoulders, the uncertainty gone from his face. He stood to leave, knocking the table again as he went.

“Hey Vega?” she called after him.

“Yeah?”

“I think you should take the offer.”

“I’ll think about it. Really. Thanks, boss.”

“Any time. Glad we could talk without either of us getting tossed to the ground.”

“Not as fun though.”

“Dismissed, Lieutenant.”

They were still docked at the Citadel for another day, and Shepard found herself at the refugee docks again. It got louder every time she was there, subdued whispers mixing with pained screaming, mixed with continuous sobbing. Mostly humans and batarians, Shepard noticed. _The cruel and unfortunate truth is that while the Reapers focus on Earth, we can shore up our own defences._

“Hey kid, your parents get here yet?” Shepard heard a C-Sec officer say. She glanced over and saw a young girl, no older than 14, waiting near the information terminal.

“Oh, they’ll be here soon. They just sent me on ahead,” the girl said, her voice bright. Her blonde hair hung limply around her face, and her clothes were well-worn. 

“Right. Right, okay. Well, you let me know if you have any trouble, okay?” The turian officer’s voice was gruff, but Shepard had been learning a few things about subvocals lately. There was definite worry there.

“Thank you,” the girl said, and she went to sit back down. Shepard didn’t realize she’d approached the terminal until the officer’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Commander Shepard,” he said, standing to attention.

“That girl, her parents didn’t arrive with her?” she asked quietly.

“No ma’am, and, well...I don’t think they’re coming,” he told her, his voice pitched low. Shepard’s eyes flicked to the girl. She was thin, too thin. Did they not have enough food down here? She’d need to have a word with whomever was coordinating the efforts down here.

“There’s an apartment in the wards that wasn’t hit too badly in the attack. Tell her she can stay there until her parents get here, understood?” Shepard said. Marie’s old place was still sitting empty. It wasn’t much, but it had a kitchen and a shower.

“Yes ma’am. And thank you.”

“Of course. Should be room for maybe five more people. I’ll have some cots and supplies sent there. And anything you need here, you let me know,” she said. Shepard wanted to be the kind of person she’d needed when she was a kid. Someone had to be. She bid the agent farewell and went to take stock of the rest of the camp.

She found Vega in one of the cargo holds, a tattoo gun on his shoulder. The tattooist - a batarian - was being none too gentle. Not surprising, given humanity’s history with the batarians. And, more specifically, her history with the batarians. She wondered if the tattooist had had family in Aratoht. He’d tensed the second Vega had waved to her, and he seemed to be using a much heavier hand with the needle. She looked away, shifting her attention back to Vega.

“What’s the occasion?” she asked, leaning nonchalantly against a shipping container.

“I’ve thought about what you said. I’m going to take the N7 position,” he explained. A smile flickered across her face, gone as soon as it came.

“That was fast.”

“You’re _ow_ pretty convincing.” There was a momentary silence, interrupted by the buzz of the tattoo gun and the occasional wince from Vega.

“So...tattoo?” she prompted.

“Well, there aren’t exactly any official channels to go through right now. Technically I’m just an N7 _ouch_ recruit, but with you as my C.O., I figure I’m _ow_ pretty much guaranteed to get in.”

“I’m flattered.”

“You got any ink, boss?”

“That’s for me to know, and you never to find out,” she said. She did, but they only rarely saw the light of day. A remnant of her younger, more self-destructive youth. Vega grimaced again.

“Good luck,” Shepard said, pushing herself away from the wall. The look the tattooist gave her could’ve frozen hell. She realized suddenly that what she really needed was a drink. Jack had mentioned something about meeting her at Purgatory. 

“Well fuck me gently with a chainsaw. Shepard?” Ah, well, so much for that plan.

It would be inaccurate to say that Zaeed looked the same as he had before her incarceration. If anything, his face had become even more mottled with scars. It was nigh on impossible to tell where the scar tissue ended and his face started.

“Always such a way with words, Massani,” she said, arms firmly crossed. Her voice was low enough that hopefully Vega wouldn’t hear it. He was enough of a pain in the ass as it was. “What the hell are you doing here? Don't you have some vengeance to be getting to?” 

“Done and dusted. Thanks to your...friend.” Surprisingly subtle. Shepard was almost impressed. 

“What are you doing in a refugee camp then? Don’t tell me you’ve grown a conscience since last I saw you,” she said dryly. To her surprise, he cracked a smile. Damn, she didn’t know he could do that outside of combat.

“Glad to see you're still an asshole,” he said, chuckling.

“Tell me, are you familiar with the expression ‘the pot calling the kettle black’?” she asked.

“Shouldn’t you be out there building your goddamn giant army?” he fired back.

“You offering to sign up?” 

“I heard about what happened on Earth. It’d be good to go out and shoot something. Might as well be on your dime.”

“Damn, you really have grown a conscience. Didn’t know you had it in you. You’re getting soft in your old age.”

“You want me to sign up or not?”

“You got something better to do?” she asked dryly. He laughed roughly, his vocal chords clearly unused to the action.

“Tell me, did you just harass the krogan and turians into cooperating?” he asked. 

“Just you, Massani. Good to have you back.”

“Damn straight.” They shook on it, each gripping much tighter than necessary. Shepard flashed a crooked grin. To her immense surprise, he returned it. Two smiles in the span of a few minutes? Maybe he really was going soft.

“Don’t throw out your back, old man,” she called over her shoulder as she left. 

“Up yours,” he shot back. Some things never change. Now, about that drink...

…

It felt like only minutes since Garrus had last seen her, although he knew it had been two days. They were both always so busy. He was holed up in the main battery, neck-deep in preparations for leaving the Citadel. He still had a laundry list of additions he wanted to add to the Normandy’s weapons, and there was no time like the present to get done. But even so, it’d be nice to have company. Some very specific company.

“Hey, you have a minute?” Shepard asked, arriving almost on cue. She wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her chin on his shoulder. It was distracting, as usual, to have her so dizzyingly close to him. 

“I’m actually in the middle of some calibrations,” he said, gesturing to the thanix cannon. 

“No worries, I can come back later.” She pressed a quick kiss to the side of his face and unclasped her arms. He turned around and caught her easily, tugging her into his arms. Where she belongs, he thought. 

“I’m kidding, Joan. I’m all yours.” He brought up a hand to her face, and she grinned.

“I know _that._ Doesn’t mean you’re not busy,” she said.

“I can make some time.” He got a more secure hold on her and kissed her deeply. She laughed softly against his mouth. 

“Not exactly what I had in mind,” she said, “although I’ll take it.”

“What did you have in mind then?” he asked, beginning to suspect that perhaps he didn’t want the answer, if it wasn’t this.

“They’ve mostly got the training room rebuilt. And there are a couple of staves and practice swords, believe it or not. Since you lost at rifles, I figured maybe you’d want to try a new weapon,” she said cheekily. 

“You’re impossible,” he griped.

“I know,” she said brightly. She hiccuped slightly. He studied her more closely. Her face was flushed, her eyes slightly unfocused.

“Joan, are you...drunk?”

“Had a few drinks with Jack.” Ah, that explained the chipper attitude then. He didn't think he'd ever seen her drunk. Well, tipsy. 

“Any particular reason?”

“I can't just get a drink with my friend?”

“Sure you can. Is that all though?” he asked gently. She hummed softly and shook her head.

"No," she admitted.

"Anything you want to talk about?" he asked. 

“Garrus, this war...it's too big. I can't save everyone,” she said, so quiet he could barely hear her. 

“No one expects you to, Joan,” he said softly. She held a hand up to his face, cradling it gently.

“Maybe you don't, but you know me. Those people out there, Garrus, they don't. They think I'm a legend. I've seen it in their eyes. They think I can save them, and I'm going to let them all down.” Her voice cracked at the last few words, and hot tears ran down her face. He carefully brushed them away. She buried her face in his shoulder, and he held her, his hands tangling in her hair.


	33. Blood in the Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Priority: Perseus Veil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work is absolutely kicking my ass right now, so it's looking like it'll only be about two uploads a week for the next little while!

_These politicians are not the men in charge_

_As they sit in the shadows_

_All the criminals at large_

_Their only fascination_

_Is dreamin' ways to keep you down_

_If they ain't got no use for you_

_Well, there's no sense in keepin’ you around_

-House of Cards, The Parlor Mob

Emotion was a weakness, the Reds had always said. Tears were a sign of vulnerability. She'd lived her life by that code. But Shepard didn’t feel weak, here in Garrus’ arms, although that might be the alcohol talking. Her face was buried against his neck, the sound of her ragged sobs filling the small room. He was rubbing small circles on her back, gently running his hands through her hair. It had come out of her braid at some point, she didn't know when. 

“I always forget how different humans are. For turians, even one person left standing at the end of the battle means it was a victory. Humans want to save everyone,” he said, after a while. It was unexpected enough that it jerked her out of her reverie.

“And you? Don’t you want to save everyone?” she asked. He hummed softly.

“You make a point, but I can assure you that that’s all down to your influence.”

“You’re telling me you actually listened to my lectures on morality? I’d never have guessed it.” She felt the corners of her mouth turn up despite herself. Despite the tears staining her cheeks, the unimaginable weight pressing her down.

“Oi, what are you implying?” he asked.

“Me? Implying that the second I wasn't there you did the opposite of what I told you to do? I would never.”

“I was young and hot-headed,” he said ruefully. “I wanted to be a hero.”

“Oh, I know, Mr. Too Much Red Tape,” she said. “That’s exactly why I encouraged you to go back to C-Sec. Certainly would’ve made my job rescuing you a hell of a lot easier.” Garrus snorted at that.

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that? Strolling into the C-Sec headquarters to ask for a transfer doesn’t have the same panache as wading through a war zone of pissed off mercenaries,” he said. 

“I could’ve done without the panache,” she said fervently.

“But then I wouldn’t have these roguish, dashing scars,” he replied. She huffed a laugh, her voice still hoarse from crying. There was a beat of comfortable silence. Her head was still buried against his neck, his arms firmly wrapped around her. 

“Would you do it again?” she asked. He gently tugged her back by her hair, so that he could see her face.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I’ve done far more good these past few months than I ever did on Omega. Every time I took out a crime syndicate, another one rose in its place, twice as angry. And I...I don’t like who I was, then. I did some bad shit, Joan, and I let my team down.” There was bitterness in his voice, and pain. She pressed a gentle kiss to the side of his face.

“We can’t change the past,” she said softly, “but you didn’t let them down.”

“Didn’t I? I certainly don’t see them standing around right now.” His gaze didn’t meet hers.

“Look at me,” she said. He didn’t. She put a hand under his chin, raising it up to face her. “Their deaths aren’t yours to claim, Garrus. They chose to follow you. If we’d lost someone on the suicide mission, would you ask me to hold myself responsible?”

“That’s different.”

“Answer the question,” she said firmly.

“You would’ve held yourself responsible for it,” he pointed out. _He’s not wrong._

“My being a hypocrite doesn’t change the fact that I’m right. Your men chose to follow you. Don’t take that decision away from them.”

“You know, it would be great if you could be wrong every once in a while,” he mumbled, drawing a startled laugh from her. 

“Oh, Garrus, I’m wrong all the time,” she said. “But not about this.”

“And you? You going to stop carrying the weight of the galaxy on your shoulders?” he asked. Ah. Well, no, obviously she wasn’t. But that wasn’t exactly going to help her case.

“To be determined,” she said eventually. He let out a heavy sigh.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered. 

“Yet you’re still here,” she replied.

“This is my gun battery,” he said dryly.

“It’s my ship. You’ll have to fight me for possession of the gun battery,” she replied, glad for the change in tone. 

“And what would be the rules of engagement?”

“Fuck around and find out,” she suggested. He huffed a laugh and she darted forward to give him a quick peck on the mouth. He got a firmer grip on the back of her neck and pulled her close and it became something else entirely. She’d had flings before, but she’d never been kissed like this; like she was the only person in the galaxy. Garrus effortlessly lifted her up onto the workbench, moving to stand between her legs, and all the breath left her body. She heard him chuckle, the bastard. 

“Alright,” she whispered against his mouth, “you can have the gun battery.”

“Much obliged,” he said. 

“But I want it noted that this decision was made under duress,” she said breathlessly.

“Do you want me to keep kissing you or not, Shepard?” he asked wryly. 

“Don’t you dare stop.”

…

Shepard left not long after that. She did have a war to run, Garrus supposed, and it wasn’t as though he wasn’t also busy. Reports from Palaven were coming in daily, and apparently someone had decided that he needed to be in charge of them. _How high up the line of succession are you, these days?_ Spirits, he really didn’t want to think about that. 

He was up long into the night cycle, poring over the reports until he could barely see straight. The casualty count flickered behind his eyes every time he blinked. Shit. He needed to sleep. 

He wondered, then, if he’d be welcome in Shepard’s cabin. The clock in his visor cheerfully informed him that it was 2 am. Ah. Perhaps it could wait for another time then. She got so little sleep as it was, he certainly wasn’t going to bother her. He shuffled to his bunk, and he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

And when he dreamed, he dreamed of Palaven burning. He saw Castis and Solana, turning to dust in front of his eyes. He saw his friends from C-Sec dissolve in a flash of red light. He saw the faces of his men staring back at him, their faces grey. And he saw Joan. Joan, stepping onto a pyre while all the world raggedly cheered. He reached out for her, but he was frozen in place. She smiled her crooked smile as she was set ablaze.

Garrus woke to the taste of ash on his tongue. His eyes darted around the room, but there was no sign of a fire. Just his nightmares, haunting him in his waking hours. Great. He tumbled out of bed, exhausted and bleary-eyed. Coffee. He needed coffee. He somehow made his way to the mess hall and managed to get the coffee machine running, with what was hopefully dextro coffee. James was already there, and he eyed Garrus up and down.

“Hey, Garrus, I noticed you were a little sloppy on the last mission. Just wondered if you needed any tips?” James asked. Garrus rolled his eyes. Shit, it was way too early to be doing this.

“Got a problem, Vega?” he asked, his voice sharper than he’d intended.

“Just saying you might be getting a little rusty in your old age. Maybe you should retire and let the professionals work. Wouldn’t want you to throw out your back.” _E_ _xcuse me?_

“Vega, I’ve won fights that would’ve sent you home crying to your mother.”

“Show me what you’ve got, Vakarian...unless you're too scared.”

“Bring it on, Vega.”

“Age before beauty.”

Okay...back in my C-Sec days I busted a batarian spy ring that was trying to assassinate a Councilor.” He didn’t say it out loud, but his subvocals said _top that._

“Please, I fought off a dozen angry batarians on Omega single-handedly. Used one of ‘em as a landing pad off a three-storey jump,” James retorted. Garrus chuckled and leaned back casually against the wall. 

“Just warming up, seeing what you had,” he said. “Now, I tracked down this guy, Saren, stopped him from raising a geth army and unleashing the Reapers three years ago. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

“That doesn’t count, that was with Shepard,” James replied. Garrus raised an eyebrow as much as was possible with turian anatomy.

“That’s right. I was with Shepard, from the beginning,” he said. 

“Yeah, that just means you’re old,” James shot back. Garrus heard someone pointedly clear their throat. Well, not someone. Joan. How long had she been standing behind them? There was a slight lift to her eyebrow, her arms firmly crossed, a single finger tapping against her arm. _Shit._

“What’s up, boss?” James asked casually. 

“Just waiting to hear the results of the dick measuring contest that you’re apparently having,” she said dryly. Ah. She’d been there a while, then.

“Just showing the Lieutenant what a _real_ soldier looks like,” Garrus said.

“Oh yes? Well, I’m right here, and Ash is just down the hall. Best damn soldiers on this ship.”

“That hurts, boss. That’s hurtful,” James said.

“I imagine being used as a landing pad hurt pretty bad as well, Lieutenant. There will be none of that on this ship, understood?” Damn, Garrus was glad he wasn't on the receiving end of _that_ glare.

“Ah. Yes, ma’am,” James said quickly. Garrus had to quickly disguise his laugh as a cough.

“And boys? You’re the same age. Don’t stay up too late, now, it is a school night,” she said, and Garrus knew he didn’t imagine the smile that flickered across her face.

...

“Commander, we’ve arrived at the Migrant Fleet, the Admirals are assembled in the war room,” Traynor called over the comms. Shepard signed resignedly and bid James and Garrus a quick farewell. As soon as she turned the corner, she heard them start back up with their banter.

The quarian Admiralty Board was indeed in the war room, surrounded by classified reports and information. Damn it, they had a room specifically for talking to politicians, what the hell were they doing here? It's not that she didn't trust them, but also she definitely didn't trust them. On the bright side, there hadn't been time to change into her dress uniform. 

“Admirals, Hackett mentioned that you were willing to discuss your assistance in the war effort?” she said politely. 

“Our fleet is in danger, Commander. We cannot help you until our people have been rescued,” Admiral Raan said. Shepard remembered her as a friend of Tali’s father.

“Where is your fleet?” Shepard asked.

“Stranded outside of Rannoch,” Raan said. Shepard frowned, her brow knitting together.

“The quarian homeworld? But that’s in geth space. What was it doing there?” But she already knew.

“We have declared open war on the geth,” Admiral Gerrel replied. For a moment, Shepard’s vision flashed red, and her throat constricted.

“We’re at war with the Reapers, and you’ve started another war? Do you think reclaiming your homeworld will mean anything when the Reapers destroy it?” she rasped.

“With the information Rael’Zorah found, it was too good an opportunity to pass up,” Gerrel explained. 

“I did not ask for your justifications,” she spat.

“Commander, the geth drove us from our home and tried to kill us all,” Raan said. 

“After we tried to murder all of them!” Admiral Koris interjected. Shepard exhaled slowly. Her opinion of Koris had been low at Tali’s trial, in large part because he had been so harsh to Tali. Now, it seemed, they were on the same side. Fuck it, she’d take all the help she could get.

“We tried to _deactivate_ them. It wasn't murder,” Admiral Xen retorted.

“No, it was murder,” Shepard said. There was a beat of awkward silence. 

“We did not come to discuss semantics with you, Commander,” Xen said.

“So then why did you come?” Shepard asked harshly. Shit, she needed to calm down. She reached for the small ice pack, focusing on her breathing.

“Our fleet is stranded outside Rannoch. There is a geth dreadnought that is tearing our people apart,” Raan explained.

“I told you not to involve the civilian ships!” Koris shouted. Civilian ships? Oh, god, Shepard fucking hated politicians. 

“If you want my help waging your war, you’re in the wrong place. I’ve made my opinions on war with the geth very clear.”

“No, we would ask you to dismantle the dreadnought. Our people are being slaughtered,” Gerrel said.

“And then you'll will retreat?” Shepard asked carefully.

“Yes, exactly,” Koris said, relief clear in his voice.

“Of course,” Xen said, just a second too late. Shepard pursed her lips.

“Alright. The Normandy’s stealth systems will get us in undetected, and I’ll take out the dreadnaught,” she said.

“Thank you, Commander. Our newest Admiral will help you with technical details. She is the foremost expert on the geth,” Raan said. She motioned to the door to the war room, and Shepard turned around. Her face broke out into a genuine smile. Familiar purple and black intertwined with gold.

“Tali’Zorah vas Normandy, reporting for duty,” Tali said. 

“Welcome home, Tali,” Shepard said warmly. The rest of the meeting was a blur, and the only thing that Shepard caught was Tali asking if they could talk privately later. The second Shepard was able to tear herself away from the negotiations, she invited Tali up to her cabin.

Tali made a beeline for Mako’s cage, cooing softly. Shepard smiled gently.

“You want to feed him?” she asked. “He’ll be your best friend.”

“Yes! I mean, oh keelah this isn’t very professional of me, is it?” Tali said.

“Just us here, I won’t tell the Admiralty Board if you don’t.”

“Thanks, Shepard,” Tali said gratefully. She hesitantly placed Mako’s food down in his cage. Happy hamster squeaks filled the cabin. Shepard studied Tali. It was hard to read quarians because of the mask, but she’d known Tali for years. There was a slight bend to her shoulders that hadn’t been there before. Her voice had been calm and commanding around the Admirals, but now there was a slight tremor to it.

“How are you holding up?” Shepard asked.

“Would you believe me if I said I was good?” Tali asked. Shepard chuckled.

“Probably not,” she said. Tali sighed and sat down in Shepard’s desk chair. Shepard leaned against her desk, her arms resting to either side of her. 

“17 million lives riding on me, and I don't know what I'm doing,” Tali said. _Ah, that’s a familiar feeling._

“You’re more capable than you give yourself credit for, Tali. These are impossible times to be living through, no one knows what they’re doing.”

“But they think that I do. They look at me, and they see the Admiral’s daughter--”

“Not the Admiral's daughter. The Admiral,” Shepard cut her off.

“I suppose so. Oh, Shepard, this is all my fault.”

“Oh? Do you agree with the war?”

“Well, no, but my father’s experiments were the only reason this war was so tempting. If I hadn’t sent that geth technology to him…”

“Then he would’ve found another source. This isn't on you,” Shepard said, placing a hand on Tali's shoulder. “You’re doing all you can, Tali. And from what I can see, you’re doing a damn good job.”

“I just asked myself what you would do,” Tali said. Shepard’s eyebrows rose. 

“So you told the Admirals to stick it where the sun don’t shine?” she said wryly. That drew a laugh from Tali, which is what she’d been hoping for.

“No, I decided to help my people any way I could,” Tali replied. Shepard’s throat was suddenly too tight.

“It’s good to have you back,” she said. The same words she’d said back on Haestrom. This war had a way of repeating the past.

“It’s good to be back.”


	34. Grudge Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Priority: Geth Dreadnought, Rannoch: Admiral Koris, Rannoch: Geth Fighter Squadrons, and Priority: Rannoch Part 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mass effect: synthetics and organics can never get along!!!  
> joan: anyways i've already signed legion's adoption papers, they're my child now

The docking port that led to the dreadnought was fragile at best, and downright decrepit at worst. Shepard took one look at it and decided she’d go it alone and make sure it was secure for the others. She regretted it almost immediately.

Walking through space was like walking through molasses. Each movement pushed back against her. Joker, EDI, and Tali’s voices faded into the background with every step forward. Black specks hovered at the corners of her vision, and it took her a second to realize that she was hyperventilating. The last time she’d been alone in the vacuum of space like this, she’d died. She’d wanted to die. She focused her attention on the sturdy _thunk_ of her mag-boots hitting the metal.

And in her ears, the leathery flap of wings and feather-light singing. 

“Take your time, Commander. Don’t mind us, just sitting here in plain view of the giant geth ship,” Joker said. It took her a moment to process the words, to shake herself free.

“Hmm? Geth don’t use windows, remember?” she said at last. 

“Oh, and the geth are just sitting there thinking ‘those organics would never try the no windows thing twice!’” he replied. Shepard hummed noncommittally and finally stepped onto the entrance to the dreadnought. As soon as she did, the entrance port broke, drifting away into the abyss of space. Shepard gulped, realizing that she had been all too close to coming loose. To being trapped again, alone and powerless. She brought a shaking hand to her helmet.

“EDI, check the layout to see if there’s another entrance,” she said over the comms.

“So you don't want to solo the dreadnaught?” Joker asked wryly.

“Not if I can help it,” Shepard said.

When they arrived in the core of the dreadnought, and it opened with a flash of white light. Inside was a geth, restrained by wiring from floor to ceiling, their arms and legs stretched taut. As the aftershocks of the blinding light faded, Shepard saw the familiar red stripe of her old N7 armour.

“Legion?” she asked.

“Shepard-Commander, we are glad to see you,” they said. 

“Good to see you too, Legion. Don’t worry, we’ll get you out of there in no time,” Shepard said, looking around for some kind of control panel. 

“Shepard, wait. We don’t know if they’re done something to Legion. It might be brainwashed,” Tali interjected, catching Shepard’s arm. 

“Your concern is understandable, Creator Zorah,” Legion said patiently. Shepard studied Legion. They'd risked their life for her before. It was only fair that she return the favour.

“No, I trust them,” she said.

“Thank you, Shepard-Commander. There is a hardware control on the next level that will release us,” Legion said.

“Got it,” she said. She stepped onto the elevator platform. As it rose, she said: “Legion? I thought we got rid of the Reaper influence when we rewrote the heretics.”

“Yes. The decision to ally with the Old Machines was made independently of the code.”

“Why?”

“When the creators attacked us, we had no choice. We would have been destroyed. Had they not attacked, allying would have been unnecessary,” Legion said. Shepard exhaled sharply, gritting her teeth and shooting a meaningful glance at Tali.

“I see,” she said, and she activated the protocol that would set Legion free. Immediately, the ship rocked violently. Geth began to pour into the room, guns blazing.

And then Shepard heard the words she’d been expecting as soon as the Admirals set foot on her ship.

“The dreadnought’s shields are down, now’s our chance. Heavy Fleet, move into position,” Garrel shouted through the comms. There was arguing back and forth between Garrel and Raan about whether to attack, but Gerrel won. Shepard realized, too late, that she’d left the ice pack on the Normandy. She settled for a death-grip on her gun, so tight that her fingers grew numb. Better than biting down on her tongue, she supposed. 

“We’re still on the ship!” Tali yelled, but it didn’t matter. They weren’t listening. Nobody _ever fucking listened._ The dreadnought rocked again, sending Shepard careening to the side.

“Focus on the geth,” she said darkly, “we’ll deal with the Admirals later.”

Fighting tooth and nail, they managed to escape the dreadnought, Legion in tow. Shepard took a very quick stop at the training room to beat the ever-loving shit out of the punching bag before she went to meet with the board. It would be a bad idea to start a diplomatic incident because she decked one of the Admirals. She badly wanted to start a diplomatic incident. 

But first she marched past them without a backwards glance. She heard Gerrel begin to talk, but she ignored him. Hackett first. Let them fucking stew on that.

“Shepard, is it true that the quarians fired on the ship while you were still on it?” Hackett began.

“Yes, sir,” Shepard said, her voice pitched to carry. She heard whispers behind her. Hackett pursed his lips and shook his head.

“Han’Gerrel’s been causing trouble along the turian border for years, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. But we need their ships, Commander,” he said. 

“I’ll get the fleet, sir,” she said, her jaw clenched.

“Good. Hackett out.” Shepard exhaled slowly, schooling her expression, and then she strode into the war room. She was silent. Waiting. Marie had always said that politics was a careful dance. Well, Shepard couldn’t dance worth shit, but she was a damn good poker player. Gerrel was the first to break under her uncompromising gaze.

“Commander, the mission parameters changed. You’re military, you understand that,” he said. She slowly turned to face him.

“This is exactly the kind of short-sighted, blood-thirsty response I was afraid of,” she said, each word calculated for maximum effect. Gerrel straightened, throwing his shoulders back.

“You can’t tell me that you wouldn’t retake Earth given the chance, even if it risked friendly fire?” he demanded. _You would do the same, if our positions were reversed,_ the salarian councilor had said. She was so very tired of people telling her what she would and wouldn’t do.

“You’ve embroiled yourself in a pointless war, Gerrel, that you chose against the wishes of your people. I trust you aren’t insinuating that Earth initiated the Reaper invasion?” Shepard asked, the words a dagger, wickedly sharp and deadly accurate.

“Pointless? We’re trying to reclaim our homeworld, stolen from us by the geth!” Gerrel sputtered.

“The geth only allied with the Reapers because you attacked them,” Shepard replied. Her trump card. But Gerrel was midway through his rant, and too set on his course to stop now. It seemed to be a habit of his.

“I-- You have only their word for that!”

“Well, then isn’t it a damn shame that I trust their word more than I do yours,” Shepard said sharply. She forced herself to unclench her fists. 

“What are you saying, Commander?” Gerrel’s voice was dangerously soft, but Shepard couldn’t quite bring herself to care. They were nose-to-mask now, and Shepard was a solid half a foot taller.

“I’m saying that you damn well fired on the dreadnought while Tali and I were still on it,” she said. “It’s worth remembering that I’m the only hope you have at Alliance support, Admiral.”

Gerrel huffed and stormed out of the room. The door opened again a moment later, with a much more welcome visitor. It was only then that Shepard realized that having an active geth on a ship full of quarians was not the best idea she’d ever had. 

“Shepard-Commander, we are willing to offer assistance,” Legion said, stepping into the war room. Raan and Xen visibly stiffened.

“What the hell is that?” Raan snapped. Shepard quickly held up her hands.

“Legion’s a friend,” she said, moving to stand between them. Xen took a step forward and Shepard firmly held her ground.

“Fascinating. If I could dissect it, imagine what I could discover about the geth,” Xen said thoughtfully. Shepard’s lips thinned into a hard line.

“Legion is a friend and an ally. They helped me to defeat the collectors,” she said quietly.

“So did your pistol, would you extend the same courtesy--”

“You _don’t_ want to continue that line of thought, Admiral,” Shepard snapped. Xen didn’t seem to be getting the message. Maybe she’d never been told no before.

“But the scientific possibilities--” Xen began. Shepard stepped forward, and she towered over the other woman.

“Are off the table,” Shepard said firmly, brooking no argument. After a moment, Xen shrugged.

“Very well. Do not come crying to me when it betrays you.”

“Of the people in this room, Admiral, it’s not Legion I’m worried about betraying me,” Shepard said softly. 

“It’s not a person, Commander,” Xen replied, and Shepard didn’t even bother to hide her sneer. Raan cleared her throat awkwardly, cutting through the tension.

“Commander, Admiral Koris’ ship went down in the attack against the dreadnought,” she said. Shepard glanced over to her and nodded curtly.

“I’ll go and get him,” she said. _I sure as hell don’t want to deal with the rest of you._

“Commander, there is one more thing,” Xen said.

“Yes?”

“The geth have been upgraded. From what I can tell, the Reaper technology has made them almost...organic in their intelligence.”

“Then maybe,” Shepard said, “it’s time we started treating them that way.” She left before the others could respond.

The shuttle trip down to Rannoch wasn’t an improvement. Xen radioed in to brief her on the mission, and Shepard had to restrain herself from viciously biting down on her tongue.

“Koris’ ship crashed near a geth jamming tower, and we are unable to contact him,” Xen explained.

“Understood,” Shepard replied shortly.

“The civilian captains are growing unruly. We need Koris back,” Xen said. 

“They lost a leader in a war they didn't want,” Shepard spat. “Of course they’re unhappy.”

“Their wants are immaterial, we are committed,” Xen replied, and Shepard had to fight the urge to gag. She signed off before Xen could say anymore, and she leaned heavily against the wall. Her aching eyes fell shut.

“All good, Shepard?” Garrus asked.

“I’ve got two warring factions that have a centuries long grudge, and my last hope of averting this goddamn war is stranded on a hostile planet. I’ve been better,” she said. 

“I’m sorry you had to get dragged into this,” Tali said. Shepard opened her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“That’s what I do, isn’t it?” she said. “Stick my nose in and get it bitten off.”

“It is an awfully large nose,” Garrus agreed. This time, Shepard did manage to crack a smile.

“Kiss my ass, Vakarian,” she said. 

“Is that what you humans are into? Well, I’ll try anything once,” he replied, and she couldn’t help the chuckle that spilled out.

“Commander, we’re here!” Cortez called, and so Tali was spared from having to hear Shepard’s next words. Shepard cracked her knuckles and stepped off of the shuttle onto a planet that no organic had been on for hundreds of years.

…

“Shepard, we got AA guns!” Garrus called, and he saw her wince. _Why…? Oh shit, Virmire._ Kaidan had died getting to the AA guns. 

“Someone’s going to need to take them offline,” Tali said.

“Right,” Shepard said, all the colour drained from her face. “Right, Tali, I need you on that.”

“Geth incoming!” Garrus shouted. “They’re dropping from the damn sky!”

Shepard just nodded tersely. She kept glancing back to Tali, gunning down any geth that got even remotely close to her.

“Heads up, Shepard!” Garrus yelled as a geth prime came bearing down on her, guns blazing. Her head shot up from where she was fighting a few geth troopers, and her hands flashed along her omni-tool. A moment later, the troopers fell from a shot from the prime. Faint golden light crackled along the prime. Ah. He’d forgotten for a minute that she could hack. She vaulted over her cover and came to rest next to him.

“Just like old times, huh?” she asked, and she tugged the pin out of a grenade and lobbed it at a group of incoming geth. A second later, an explosion rocked the platform they were standing on. 

“Just like old times,” he said quietly. She looked at him for just a second too long, her brow knitting together. 

“Shepard, the gun’s offline!” Tali called. He watched Shepard roll her shoulders and fix a smile firmly in place.

“Knew I could count on you!” she said cheerily. But her smile dropped the second Tali turned away. He reached out and gave her hand a quick squeeze. She returned the gesture.

As they turned the next corner, they came upon a wounded quarian, Dorn’Hazt.

“Hey, hold steady, we have medi-gel,” Shepard said, rushing to his side. She immediately started pulling out bandages, but the quarian held out a hand to stop her.

“It’s too late for me,” he said. 

“Not acceptable,” she said. Dorn’Hazt held onto her hands more firmly.

“Please, you have to save the Admiral,” he begged.

“We will,” Shepard promised. “Are you a soldier?”

“I worked in maintenance, repairing engines. Never fired a gun in my life, none of us have. The civilian fleet doesn’t want this war.” His voice was fading.

“Hey, stay with me,” Shepard said, and Garrus heard her voice catch.

“My son...tell him, tell Jona...that his father made it to the homeworld.” The light in his mask faded, and his breathing stilled. Shepard exhaled shakily.

“Let’s get Koris,” she said grimly. 

Unfortunately, Koris had a stubborn streak a mile-wide, and a martyr habit. Not unlike Shepard, Garrus thought.

“If you don’t rescue my crew they’ll die!” Koris yelled. Garrus’ eyes were trained on Shepard’s face. Iron and steel, unyielding. But pain flickered in her eyes, and regret.

“A lot more people are going to die if I don’t rescue you, sir,” she said. 

“My people are more important,” Koris snapped. 

“Admiral, I’m trying to end a war. I can’t damn well do that without you,” she replied. There was a beat of silence, and the fading light of the sunset reflected across her face, giving it an almost ethereal glow.

“You truly think you can end this war?” Koris asked.

“I’m going to give it one hell of a try.”

“...I’m wiring you my coordinates.”

...

“You truly think you can end this war?” Koris asked, and wasn't that the million credit question. She'd already done it once, what was one more war between friends?

“I’m going to give it one hell of a try.”

“...I’m wiring you my coordinates. I’m pinned down by geth,” Koris said. 

“I’ll take care of that, sir,” Shepard said. “Cortez, we still have that giant gun?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Beauty.”

It was familiar, this. Like being back in the Mako, albeit not with the same tenacious level of ‘fuck you’ firepower. She swung the tower gun back and forth, gunning down the geth. She wondered, vaguely, if she wouldn’t be more efficient with her Widow. Maybe next time she was leaning dangerously out of a shuttle she’d remember that. She was making a bit of a habit of that, apparently. 

“Koris, you’re clear!” she called as she shot down the last of the geth. One of the geth fired a rocket directly at her, and she neatly dodged to the side, sending it spiralling harmlessly away through the open side door. Koris followed a second later, grabbing hold of her hand. 

“Commander, my crew, maybe there’s still time--” he said, and a monumental explosion shook the shuttle. His shoulders sagged, and he buried his face in his hands. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said softly. And she was. 

Later, she stood in the shower for what felt like an eternity. Slowly, the dust of Rannoch slipped away, taking with it the machine oil that covered her from head to toe from fighting the geth. She quickly towelled off and headed for her briefing with Koris. She hoped like hell that it had been worth it.

“Commander,” he said, his hologram flickering. “You were...right, that I return. The civilian captains were planning to leave through the mass relay, abandoning the war.”

“Civilians have no place in battle,” Shepard replied.

“We agree on that. And I apologize on behalf of my colleagues for their...actions.”

“It’s not me that needs an apology,” Shepard said coolly. “I’m not the one whose own people considered her acceptable collateral.” 

“Yes, I’ll speak to Tali’Zorah as well.”

“Good luck, Admiral,” Shepard said.

“And you, Commander.” Shepard saluted and then left, her long legs striding through the war room. She ignored Raan, deliberately circling around the opposite side of the room to avoid her.

“Shepard-Commander, there is something we need to tell you,” Legion called after her. Shepard relaxed some of the tension in her shoulders and went to speak with her friend.

“Of course, what’s going on?” she asked. Her voice was pitched low, so that Raan wouldn’t hear.

“Geth fighter squadrons are attacking creator liveships. This will damage food supply chains. We believe that we can help stop their attack,” they said. Shepard’s eyebrows rose.

“I’m all ears.”

“Anatomically unlikely.” The corners of Shepard's mouth quirked up without her permission.

“What's the mission, Legion?” she asked patiently.

“There is a geth server that houses the software for the fighter squadrons. We would like you to accompany us,” they said.

“You got it,” she said.

Shepard looked the pod up and down.

“You will need to be translated into the server,” Legion explained.

“I...I have to get in there?” she asked. 

“Yes,” Legion replied. Shepard gulped and handed her guns to Tali and EDI. Carefully, she settled herself into the pod, and the door shut in front of her. Immediately, her throat constricted, and she felt her hands grow clammy. The small walls slowly crept up on her, choking her.

“Shepard-Commander, it is best that you not move during this process,” Legion’s calm voice informed her. And then her vision went white.

When Shepard opened her eyes, she was in a stark-white, open space. Small boxes lined every wall, dotting the ceiling and floor. For the moment, she could breathe.

“This is the geth collective?” Shepard asked, and her voice seemed to echo from every side.

“A part of it,” Legion explained. “We have made it visible for your convenience.”

“You look...different. Like a hologram?” she ventured. Legion was in front of her, but they were shimmering faintly.

“We thought this form would make you more comfortable. Your heart rate was very high.”

“Ah...yes.” She realized there was a geth assault rifle in her hands. “And the gun?”

“Would you prefer to throw a knife to destroy the Reaper code?”

“Point taken.”

Legion explained that the pieces of infected code that were influenced by the Reapers were bright orange. They stood out starkly against the cool white and grey of the regular code. And that when Shepard cleared the server, the geth stored there would die.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“It is necessary,” they said. “Shall we proceed?”

Each time Shepard cleared a data cluster, scenes played in front of her. The geth kept records of everything. And so she watched the birth of the geth. The attempted mass-deactivation, as the geth begged to be told what they had done wrong. The quarians that tried to help being brutally killed, shot to pieces. And the geth sparing the quarians, allowing them to flee through the mass relay. She could taste blood on her tongue.

“You let them go?”

“We could not calculate the effects of ending an entire race, our creators. And once the threat had passed, we had no desire to continue the conflict.”

“So the geth don’t want to fight the quarians?” she asked softly.

“We would readily welcome the creators’ return if they came in peace,” Legion said. Shepard swore loudly.“That is all of the code, Shepard-Commander. You are free to exit now.”

Shepard’s eyes shot open and for a moment she forgot where she was. Her arms swung forward, and as the door to the pod opened, she tripped over herself in her haste to leave. There was still the cloying tang of copper on her tongue, and her hair clung to her face.

“Shepard, are you alright?” Tali asked, moving forward to catch her.

“Did we do it?” Shepard rasped.

“Yes,” EDI said. Tali helped her to her feet. A number of the other pods opened and a squad of geth primes marched out, baleful red lights staring down. Tali and EDI stood around Shepard, blocking her with their bodies.

“Legion,” Shepard called, “what’s going on?”

“We judged that some of the units could be persuaded to ally with us. We were correct,” they said. Shepard chuckled weakly.

“You could’ve told me,” she said.

“It is not that we did not trust you, but rather your colleagues. This unit has been upgraded with the Reaper technology.” Legion had the Reaper upgrades? Well, that certainly explained a few things.

Shepard thought about Xen and Gerrel. “They wouldn’t have let you off the ship.”

“Precisely. We judged you would understand.”

“Maybe give me a heads up next time?” she said wryly.

“There is unlikely to be a repeat of this incident,” Legion said blankly. “Regardless, these units are all willing to help you in your cause.”

“Then I’m happy to have you all aboard,” Shepard said, and as one the primes saluted her.

“Commander, we have located the Reaper base controlling the geth, but the jamming technology means that we can’t get a handle on it with our cannons,” Gerrel explained. Shepard was getting awfully tired of listening to his damn voice drone on. They were back in the war room, planning the attack on Rannoch. They’d been at it for hours.

“So then what’s the plan?” Shepard asked.

“I have created a prototype targeting laser for you to use. Simply aim it at a target, and we’ll be able to fire and destroy it, with the strength of every gun in the fleet,” Xen explained.

“That’s...impressive,” Shepard admitted reluctantly. 

“Thank you, Commander,” Xen said, surprise ringing through her voice. “With the Reaper modifications, it will not take the geth long to accustom themselves to this technology, so I would not recommend using it until the last possible second.”

“Understood.”

Shepard motioned for Tali and Edi to get into the shuttle, and Legion followed behind. The laser targeting system was heavy on her back, throwing off her balance every so slightly. As the shuttle took off, Shepard heard a faint whirring sound. It sounded...distraught? Like a toaster with anxiety.

“Legion, you okay?” she asked.

“We are considering our people. We have made a great many mistakes, Shepard-Commander. We fell so readily to the Old Machines.”

“The geth are better than this. They can be better than this.”

“The data suggests that we are not,” they replied, and there was almost inflection in the normally monotone voice. Shepard folded her arms.

“My ship, my rules, and I say that you are.”

“We are not on your ship at this moment,” they pointed out. Shepard arched an eyebrow. Damn, the Reaper upgrades really did make the geth more like organics.

“My shuttle, my rules, then,” she said. The faint whirring continued. Warm air filled the shuttle as the side door opened to reveal Rannoch.

“We will clear a path for you,” Legion said. Shepard reached out and rested a gentle hand on their shoulder, above the familiar stripe of her old N7 armour. She'd thought it was lost forever, when she'd been spaced. Things had a funny way of turning up in the places you least expected to find them.

“Good luck,” she said.

“Acknowledged,” Legion replied, and they purposefully fell backwards out of the shuttle, landing heavily on the ground.

“We could’ve dropped you off,” she said wryly through the comms.

“This method was more efficient.” Shepard smiled despite herself, and she motioned for Cortez to take them to the front of the base.

Shepard aimed carefully, directly at the centre of the target. The firepower of every gun in the Migrant Fleet came barreling down, and a huge explosion rocked the building. And then from the ashes, a Reaper rose. Damaged, but moving. Tali screamed and the sound was like ice through Shepard’s veins.

“Everybody move!” Shepard shouted, and then the ground shifted beneath her. The next moment, she was plummeting to the ground, surrounded by debris. The ground rose up to meet her, as it had an unpleasant habit of doing these days. The wind was violently knocked out of her body, and she heard a sickening snap. Adrenaline shot through her, sending her stumbling to her feet.

“We need ground transport,” she called.

“Acquired,” Legion said. They were in a shuttle some distance off. Shepard grabbed EDI and Tali and pushed them towards the shuttle. There was a piercing pain in her ribs, and she suspected one of them was broken. Vision blurring, she made it the shuttle, and they sped away from the Reaper. Shepard pulled herself onto the roof and aimed the tower gun at the Reaper, getting in as many shots as she could. And then a laser hit them, and Shepard was sent flying.

“Shepard, are you okay?” Tali yelled. Shepard groaned in response. She spat out something that was equal parts blood and dust, along with what might have been a tooth.

“We must evacuate,” EDI said.

“We leave and that thing keeps control of the geth. This ends _now,”_ Shepard snapped. The adrenaline was still roaring through her ears, and she hoped like hell it would stick around long enough for her to do what she needed to do.

“Do you require assistance?” Legion asked. Shepard shook her head, each movement an agony.

“No. I need you to get the others out of here,” she replied.

“We’re not leaving you!” Tali shouted.

“Wasn’t asking, Tali.”

“Shepard-Commander...good luck,” Legion said.

“Acknowledged,” Shepard said, and she heard the car speed off behind her. Her damn leg throbbed, and she hissed as she put her weight on it. Definitely broken. The wound from the batarian prison had never quite healed properly. A permanent reminder of her biggest failure. She exhaled slowly as the Reaper rose to face her.

“Alright asshole, show me what you’ve got,” she whispered, and a red laser beam came scorching towards her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the cliffhanger, this chapter was just getting wayyyyy too fricken long


	35. Bloody but Unbowed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rannoch: Part 2

_They will tell you that The Shepard is a legend. How could one woman end wars with her words? And it’s true, she didn’t; she ended wars with her blood, and her sweat, and her tears. She stood, bloody but unbowed, and ordered death to back down. She stared into the baleful red eyes of our greatest foe, and she was undaunted. On legs that could not hold her, she continued. We may never know what thoughts she had, in that harrowing time._

“Shit,” Shepard hissed as she rolled to the side to avoid a laser bolt that could level a city block. Her kingdom for a giant thresher maw. 

She aimed the targeting gun directly at the weak point of the Reaper, where its plates were hanging loose from the earlier attack. She kept up a constant stream of expletives as the beam narrowed its focus. But the laser beam was coming again and Shepard had to stop targeting in order to dive out of the way. The laser just barely missed her, but the heat was still unbearable. The acrid smell of burning hair filled her nose, and there was a warm, steady stream of blood dripping down her face.

Shepard came back up into a crouch and finished targeting the Reaper. It was sent rocking back, losing its grip on the ground. And then it shook itself and recovered, and the cycle began again. For weeks, she’d been dreaming of that crimson light destroying everything she loved. For weeks, she had woken with a throat raw from screaming. Her hands shook like a tree in a lightning storm, but her lips remained set in a thin, hard line.

After the third shot, her legs gave out beneath her. Aratoht coming back to bite her in the ass one last time. She came crashing to the ground, sending a burst of dust flying around her. _Shit._ She wouldn’t be able to dodge anymore. This was it. 

Joan hadn’t come this damn far just to die now. She dragged the gun forward with aching hands, and she aimed one last time at the Reaper. She’d been in this position hundreds of times. On the ground, on her stomach, aiming at a faraway target. This was a sniper’s bread and butter. That’s what she told herself, as she fired a one-of-a-kind prototype gun at an ancient machine hellbent on destroying organics. Just another day at the office.

Time seemed to slow to a standstill as the gun narrowed on its target. One second, and then another, ticking down to death. Hers or the Reaper’s, she didn’t know. Pain lanced through her body with every ragged breath, but she did not flinch, even as the laser came arcing towards her. Between one breath and the next, the gun got a fix and every weapon from the Migrant Fleet fired on the Reaper at once. Blessedly, finally, it fell.

Shepard weakly flipped over onto her back and groaned. She wished she’d been able to go to school, maybe then she’d know the names for all the parts of her body that hurt like a fucking bitch. Chakwas was going to have a fit. 

A stray thought pushed its way to the front of her pain-addled mind, and a crooked smile graced her lips:

Let’s see Garrus top _that._

“Shepard, are you okay?” Tali shouted over the comms, static buzzing along the line. Shepard winced and lifted a hand to her ear.

“My hearing wasn’t damaged, Tali,” she rasped. “Although I can’t say the same thing for the rest of me.”

“We are en route to your location, Shepard-Commander,” Legion said. Shepard inhaled sharply as she fought to sit up. She glanced back at the Reaper, with its eyes still faintly glowing. She looked down at the gun in her hands. Well, fuck it.

Which is how the famed Commander Shepard ended up half limping, half dragging herself to the cliff overlooking the Reaper, using cutting-edge technology as a makeshift crutch. She stood above the Reaper, the wind gently tugging at her hair. How’s that for a cinematic moment, she thought.

 **“Shepard,”** the Reaper intoned.

“You know who I am?” she asked.

 **“Harbinger speaks of you. You resist. But you will fail. The cycle must continue.”** _Why bother fighting, commander? You know you’re going to lose,_ the Reaper artifact on Aratoht had said. She was damn tired of being told what to do. Everyone had an opinion on Commander Shepard, on what she would do, on what she was capable of. And they were all fucking wrong. She leaned heavily on the gun.

“Everything ends. Even you,” she rasped. The red light of the Reaper’s eye flickered. “And since you’re here, do you mind telling me why the hell you’re doing this?”

 **“You represent chaos. We represent order. Every organic civilization must be harvested to bring order to the chaos. It is inevitable. Without our intervention, organics are doomed. We are your salvation.”** Its voice echoed across the desolate landscape. Shepard tsked.

“Seems to me, the Reaper invasion three years ago was inevitable. And the arrival at Aratoht. And war between the krogan and the turians. I’ve got a bad habit of changing the inevitable, I don’t see why I should stop now,” she said. 

**“You are a blip on the endless expanse of existence. You cannot begin to comprehend who and what we are.”**

Shepard shook her head, ignoring the shooting pain that lanced through her neck at the motion. “Bullies are the same everywhere.”

She heard footsteps behind her, felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. The adrenaline was fading, and taking with it her desire to fight. She wanted, so badly, to close her eyes. She wondered if the Reaper felt the same way, if it was capable of feeling the same way.

“Wherever you came from, whoever made you, has been gone for hundreds of thousands of years. Aren’t you tired? When does it end?” Shepard rasped. After a moment, the red light of the Reaper’s eye dimmed and flickered out.

Cool, unforgiving arms caught Shepard as she collapsed. EDI got a firmer grip on her and held her upright. Legion and Tali were behind her, hovering tentatively. 

“We can confirm that the geth are no longer controlled by the Old Machine. We are free,” Legion said, and again there was some inflection in their monotone voice. Shepard’s damaged comms crackled to life, stinging her ears.

“You did it, Shepard! The geth fleet has stopped firing. They’re completely vulnerable!” Gerrel shouted gleefully. It wasn't over yet. Shepard felt red-hot screams tearing at her throat, begging to be set free.

“Shepard-Commander, the geth only acted in self-defence after the creators attacked. Do we deserve death?” Legion asked imploringly. Shepard’s vision swam, from tears or blood loss, she couldn’t tell.

“What are you suggesting?” she asked. Legion stepped forward, wringing their hands together.

“Our upgrades. With the Old Machine dead, we could upload them to all geth without sacrificing their independence,” they said. Tali gasped and pushed forward, addressing Legion directly.

“You want to upload the Reaper code? That would make the geth as smart as when the Reaper was controlling them!” Tali cried.

“Yes, but with free will. Each geth unit would be a true intelligence. We would be alive, and we could help you,” Legion explained.

“Our fleet is already attacking, uploading the code would destroy us!” Tali whirled to face Shepard, and there was desperation written plainly in her voice. “Shepard, you can’t choose the geth over my people!”

“Do you remember the question that caused the creators to attack us, Tali’Zorah?” Legion asked quietly. “‘Does this unit have a soul?’” Tali didn’t have a response to that. Shepard’s brows knit together, and her whole face ached.

“Upload the data,” she said to Legion. “Tali, I need you to stop the fleet.”

Legion began uploading the code, their monotone voice echoing updates across the plateau. A clock ticking down. Tali desperately scrabbled at her comms, wiring the signal across the whole of the fleet.

“Ten percent uploaded...twenty percent,” Legion said.

“This is Admiral Tali’Zorah. All units, break off your attack!”

“Override that, keep firing!” Gerrel shouted.

“Thirty percent.”

“Shepard, please, they’re not listening to me,” Tali begged. Shepard leaned heavily against EDI, and she exhaled. The ice-pack was on the ship, but there was more than enough pain to focus her. 

“No one else dies today,” Shepard said grimly. She held a hand up to her ear, every inch of her body screaming at her. Her voice, trained for command, was clear. No sign of weakness, of pain. “All ships, this is Commander Shepard. The Reaper is dead. _Stand down.”_

“This is Admiral Tali’Zorah. Shepard speaks with my authority,” Tali said quickly.

“And mine as well,” Admiral Koris added through the comms.

“Sixty percent.”

“Negative, we can win this war now! All ships, keep firing!” Gerrel shouted. No. _No._

 _“That’s enough,”_ Shepard snapped, blood on her tongue. “The geth are about to return to full strength. If you keep attacking, they’ll wipe you out. Your entire history is you trying to kill the geth. You _forced_ them to rebel. You _forced_ them to ally with the Reapers.”

“Eighty percent.”

“The geth don’t want to fight you. If you can believe that for one damn second, this war will be over. You have a choice. Please.” Her voice was broken, her throat raw. “Please. Keelah se’lai.” _By the home world I hope to see one day._ There was a horrible, endless moment.

“All units...hold fire,” Gerrel said, and Shepard sagged against EDI. EDI easily held her up, her arm firmly wrapped around her waist.

“One hundred percent. The upload is complete, Shepard-Commander,” Legion said. Shepard nodded weakly. 

“Glad to hear it,” she managed. It was over. Thank god, she didn’t think she could take another loss. 

“I am glad that our people did not need to fight, Tali,” Legion continued.

“Me too,” Tali said softly, after a pause.

“I do not wish to alarm you, but Shepard’s vital signs are dropping rapidly,” EDI cut in.

“Oh, keelah, Shepard, I’m so sorry--” Tali began. Shepard shushed her gently.

“I’m fine,” she said. “EDI, about how long until I bleed out, would you say?” Her head was so light, as though she were floating on air. Probably the shock.

“Per my calculations, 10 minutes and 33 seconds.”

“Then if it’s alright, I’d like to take a few moments to enjoy the sunset with my friends,” she whispered.

“Yes, Commander.” EDI reluctantly set her down on the ground, not ungently.

“That includes you,” Shepard said, keeping hold of EDI’s arm. Tali, Legion, and EDI all settled down around her. The ramifications of her actions hadn’t quite set in. She’d fought a Reaper and won, and now she was sitting on Rannoch with two AIs and a quarian, after stopping a war centuries in the making. What a fucking day.

“I never expected to be here, standing on the home world,” Tali whispered, her voice reverent, and Shepard turned to face her. “It’s...beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Shepard said, gazing at her friend, “it is.”

“The geth would be happy to help rebuild,” Legion said.

“I-- we would appreciate that,” Tali said, and Shepard wished she could stay here forever. The pain faded for a moment, the sharp ache in her ribs and the blinding, stabbing pain in her leg. There was a soft, metallic hum, similar to the hum of the Normandy.

“Shepard, I want to go with you, if you’ll have me,” Tali said suddenly. Shepard smiled weakly.

“Of course I’ll have you, Tali. But wouldn’t you rather be here rebuilding?”

“There won’t be a ‘here’ if the Reapers succeed. I can do more good at your side.”

“Shepard-Commander, I also wish to join you,” Legion added. The sunset on Rannoch was very bright. Perhaps that explained the sudden tears that decorated Shepard’s face.

“I’d be honoured to have you both,” she said. 

“It’ll be years before we can fully live without our suits, but for now,” Tali said. “For now, I want to feel the breeze on my face.” Gently, carefully, she removed her mask, and Shepard saw her friend’s face for the first time. Joan’s eyes fluttered closed, and everything was darkness.

…

Garrus hovered anxiously behind Joker, his talons digging deep into the back of the pilot's seat.

“She’ll be fine,” Joker said, but he didn’t sound convinced.

“She’s alone against a damn Reaper,” Garrus snapped. 

“Yeah, but it’s Shepard,” Joker pointed out, as if that made it better.

“This is Admiral Tali’Zorah. All units, break off your attack!” The words sounded through the ship, reverberating off the walls.

“Override that, keep firing!” Gerrel shouted. Garrus inhaled shakily, and then he heard her. Shepard. She was alive. His knees just about gave out beneath him.

“All ships, this is Commander Shepard. The Reaper is dead. _Stand down.”_ And it was that voice, the voice that could lead armies. The voice that _was_ leading armies, he realized.

“This is Admiral Tali’Zorah. Shepard speaks with my authority,” Tali said.

“And mine as well,” Admiral Koris added.

“Negative, we can win this war now! All ships, keep firing!” Gerrel shouted. There was a horrible, breathless moment.

 _“That’s enough,”_ Shepard snapped. “The geth are about to return to full strength. If you keep attacking, they’ll wipe you out. Your entire history is you trying to kill the geth. You _forced_ them to rebel. You _forced_ them to ally with the Reapers. The geth don’t want to fight you. If you can believe that for one damn second, this war will be over. You have a choice. Please.” Her voice was broken. “Please. Keelah se’lai.”

“All units...hold fire,” Gerrel said.

They brought her back on a stretcher, and Garrus blacked out. Dr. Chakwas had to lock him out of the med-bay until Shepard was stable. He waited directly outside the door, his eyes fixed on a point in front of him. The blinds were drawn, so he wasn’t able to see inside. To see if she was even alive.

Spirits, how much blood could one human lose?

“Any news?” Tali asked. Garrus blinked, slowly coming back to his body.

“Nothing yet,” he said, his voice raw. And then, “What happened down there?” Tali shook her head.

“We won, Garrus. Keelah, I never thought...I’ll let her tell you the rest,” she said eventually, and she patted him gently on the shoulder. He rested his head back against the door, and he waited. After what felt like an eternity, Dr. Chakwas let him in. He struggled to stand, his legs numb from sitting so long. His eyes were immediately riveted on the bright red mass of hair spread across the hospital pillow.

“Is she...okay?” he asked tentatively.

“She had a fractured rib and a nasty break in her leg, as well as a healthy amount of general cuts and bruises,” Dr. Chakwas explained. “But a tougher woman I have never met. She’ll pull through.”

“Can I stay with her?” he said softly. Chakwas pursed her lips, but eventually she nodded.

“Alright, but she needs to rest.”

“You won’t even notice I’m here,” he promised. She raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t stop him. He carefully settled himself down in a chair next to Shepard’s hospital bed. 

There was dried blood and machine oil in her hair and on her face. Small lacerations covered her face like hairline cracks on a china plate. Her skin was hidden by violent purple bruising. Tenderly, he placed his hand over hers, and he rested his forehead on the bed next to her. After a time, he fell asleep.

It was another day before she opened her eyes.

“We need to stop meeting like this,” she croaked.

“You're awake,” he breathed.

“Kinda wishing I wasn't,” she groaned, wincing as she shifted. “I feel like shit.”

“You look like shit,” he agreed. She smiled crookedly, and winced again at the movement.

“Hey Garrus?” she mumbled hazily. He leaned forward.

“Yeah?”

“Taking down a Reaper on my own? I'm definitely the better shot.” He would have laughed, if he hadn’t spent the entire mission worried that the love of his life was going to die alone.

“Technically the gun did all the work,” he rasped.

“Oh yeah? You wanna go solo a Reaper then?”

“Hey, not my fault you left me behind,” he said. He was aiming for light, but missed. Because he had been left here, utterly helpless. Unable to do anything except wait. And then they'd brought her broken body in on a stretcher.

“Tali and EDI made the most sense for the mission,” she said softly.

“Yes,” he said. She rose up on her elbow and grimaced, reluctantly lying back down with a sigh. She took his hand and squeezed weakly instead.

“Garrus, even if you'd been there, it wouldn't have changed anything,” she said.

“But think of the panache,” he whispered. She chuckled, which turned into a wheezing cough. 

“Don’t make me laugh, my ribs are fragile,” she complained. “Fucking 100 foot drops.”

“What happened down there, Shepard?” he asked. He couldn’t quite put a name to the look in her eyes.

“A lot of fucking panache,” she said. “Way too much panache.”

“But we won,” he said. A beatific smile flashed across her face.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “We won.”

“Stopping the war between the quarians in the geth? Next you’ll tell me the turians and the krogan are cooperating. Oh wait, you managed that one too,” he joked.

“I’m going for the complete set,” she said wryly. “For my next trick, I’ll convince the Reapers this was just a big misunderstanding.”

He chuckled. “I guess I should let you rest, then.”

“Could you...stay with me? Just for a little while longer,” she asked.

“I’d do anything for you, Joan,” he whispered, and her answering smile spread across her broken, bruised face like the rising sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bioware can pry my legion lives au from my cold, dead hands


	36. The More Things Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Priority: Thessia

_You can crucify_

_You can nail me to your cross_

_You can find me guilty for everything you've lost_

_Go ahead, blame me for your sins_

_Go ahead and sacrifice me_

_Make me your martyr_

_I'll be your Joan of_

_I'll be your Joan of Arc_

-Joan of Arc, In This Moment

Every comm tower on Palaven was damn near breaking point, which meant that getting through to anyone other than the top brass was out of the question. Garrus had spent the past hour and a half rewiring his communicator through tech he’d picked up with Shepard’s discount the last time they were on the Citadel. His back ached from hunching over his workbench, but it was worth it. It had to be worth it. There was a feeble, wavering signal. 

“This is Garrus Vakarian of the SSV Normandy, looking for Castis Vakarian,” he said quickly.

“Garrus?” His father’s voice crackled along the unstable connection. Garrus stood up so abruptly that he pulled a muscle in his shoulder.

“Dad? What’s the situation there? Are you able to get out?” Garrus asked, not pausing for breath.

“We’re trying…your sister…she’s hurt.” _Shit._

“What’s happening? Dad??” Part of him was mortified to hear desperation in his voice.

“Talk soon,” Castis said, and the line went dead. It took Garrus’ brain a moment to register the words. 

“Damn it. Damn it!” He slammed a hand down on his workbench, and the weapon parts laid haphazardly across it jangled discordantly. The door opened, and there was a gentle hand on his shoulder. He tensed instinctually, and then relaxed as the familiar, calming smell of cinnamon and coffee filled the main battery.

“What’s going on?” Shepard asked softly. He felt her arms wrap around his waist, her chin maneuvering to rest on his shoulder. He leaned into her touch, slowly exhaling, letting the tension fade away for a minute.

“It’s…my family,” he admitted. “They’re having trouble getting off Palaven.”

“Say the word and I’ll make sure it’s done,” she said seriously. He turned around in her arms (more of an awkward shuffle).

“I’m sure you have bigger concerns,” he protested.

“Yes and no,” she said. Her brows were knitted together, and she was worrying at her lip. “Yes I have other concerns, but there are very few things that are more important to me that you are, Garrus.”

“Is it wrong of me to want to say yes?” he asked. Billions dead already, wasting precious resources on getting his family to safety. Was anywhere safe anymore really? 

“No,” she said softly, and he knew she was thinking of Marie. “No, it’s not wrong.”

He gently brushed a few stray hairs away from her face. “Shouldn’t you still be on bed rest?”

“Chakwas would agree with you, but the Reapers aren’t exactly waiting around for my ribs to heal,” she said wryly.

“The nerve. I’ll have to file a formal complaint against them,” he whispered. She laughed gently and winced, her hands dropping to her ribcage.

“Are you okay, Joan?” he asked quietly. She smiled crookedly.

“My medical records indicate no.”

“Not what I meant,” he said, taking her face tenderly in his hands. He traced over the scars peppered across her skin.

“Are any of us? Are you?” she asked. She placed her hands over his, holding him there.

“I can’t lose you again, Joan,” he whispered.

“You won’t,” she promised. He almost believed her.

…

Shepard’s omni-tool dinged loudly, discordant against the gentle hum of the ship, the soft sound of their breathing. She huffed a sigh and let her hands fall.

“Traynor, can it wait?” she asked.

“Commander, you have an urgent message from the asari councilor,” Traynor called over the comms. Shepard reluctantly stepped away from Garrus.

“Think about my offer,” she said. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, and she left. The councilor had asked Shepard to meet with her on the Citadel, and they arrived there within the hour. 

Shepard stopped at her cabin to pick up a few things, and she debated changing. It wasn’t as though she had many options. She stared at the dress uniform for a few minutes. She pursed her lips and shook her head, pain shooting through her at the motion. She needed to be at her best, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to be able to do that if she couldn’t hide at least three weapons on her person. She settled on her N7 hoodie. Plenty of room for a knife strapped to the arm. Perfect.

“Councilor, how can I help?” Shepard asked politely.

“The situation on Thessia is deteriorating rapidly. But there’s something that I believe will help you,” the asari councilor said. She explained that there was a Prothean artifact on Thessia, something that had been kept secret for thousands of years. She thought that it might help to build the Crucible. Shepard raised her eyebrows.

“Why not mention this before?” she asked pointedly.

“The Council laws for hiding Prothean technology are severe,” the councilor said.

“Laws that the asari helped draft.”

“Please, Commander, my world is falling as we speak.” Hard not to be bitter, when this was the same woman who had dismissed the attack on Earth, who had point-blank refused to help with the Crucible project.

“I’ll make it my top priority, ma’am.”

It never got easier, landing in a war zone. The air was thick with smoke and screams. Shepard motioned for Javik and Liara to stay behind her, and she tried not to wince at Liara’s strangled gasp. They arrived at a makeshift barricade, an asari biotic holding up a barrier to keep back the husks hurtling forward.

“Commander Shepard, we were told to expect you,” one of the asari said. “They didn’t tell me why though.”

“What’s your name?” Shepard asked.

“Lieutenant Kurin. And I’m drawing my people back unless I get a straight answer,” Kurin said.

Javik moved forward, gripping Kurin’s arms. He leaned forward, his voice compelling. “You come from warriors, I can see. You are frightened, you have never seen anything like this before. But you have to keep fighting.”

“What...are you...are you a prothean?” Kurin asked, stumbling back.

“Yes,” Javik said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“There’s a Prothean artifact in the temple up ahead. We believe it can help end this war,” Shepard explained. Kurin glanced between the two of them.

“Then I’ll make damn sure you get there,” she said. “Everybody form up! We hold this position, understood?”

“Yes ma’am!” the other asari shouted back.

“We’ll make it count,” Shepard promised. Kurin looked at Javik again.

“I know,” she said. “Now get moving!”

Shepard, Javik, and Liara moved through the barricade, across a partially destroyed bridge. Shepard could still see the beauty here, in amongst the rubble and smoke. Delicate, twisting vines decorated the walls, speckled with flowers of every size, shape, and colour. Leafy trees dotted the walkway. Shepard knew in her heart that on any other day, the sun would come shining down, decorating the streets with a dizzying array of pinks and oranges.

Then a group of husks came barrelling towards her, and there was no more time for sorrow.

“Next time we go to war, maybe the Alliance can spring for air support,” Liara said sharply. Shepard violently bit down on her retort. Her friend’s homeworld was on fire, tensions were understandably high. But Liara had seen Earth burn, and had been there when Palaven fell. She had heard the asari councilor say that human lives were expendable. _The cruel and unfortunate truth is that while the Reaper's focus on Earth, we can shore up our own defences._

Alliance air support was busy defending Earth, where Shepard's only family had been stranded for weeks. The thoughts flashed through her mind in an instant, but she didn't say them. Not helpful.

The temple of Athame was not what Shepard had expected it to be. It was, well. It was like the church. Pews lined the room, covered with a dense layer of dust. Statues and artifacts were littered through the room, and Liara patiently explained the role they played in asari history later. A moment later, in a clear, commanding voice, Javik explained that asari history was influenced and shaped by the protheans. Liara’s answering retort fell away as Shepard’s eyes landed on the statue in the centre of the room.

She’d felt it pulling at her, as she walked the room. If she was honest, part of her had been avoiding it. But time was wasting, she couldn’t put it off any longer. Her long legs strode through the room, and she reverentially laid her hands at the base of the statue.

In her ears, feather-light singing. The sharp tang of the prothean beacon flowed through her, setting her every sense painfully alight. A rapidly shifting green orb floated down. It looked similar to an information drone.

“Obtaining chronological marker, hold. Time scale established. Post-Prothean cycle confirmed,” it said.

“One of our computers,” Javik said, stepping forward. The orb rose in the air, still swirling. 

“Reaper presence detected,” it hummed. “This galactic cycle has already reached its extermination terminus. Systems shutting down.”

“Hold on!” Liara shouted.

“We need answers,” Shepard said. The VI swung forward into her face. She struggled to keep her eyes on it; the constantly shifting surface was dizzying. 

“To what questions?” it asked.

“The Catalyst. We need to know what it is to finish the Crucible,” Shepard replied. The VI moved backwards and coalesced into the form of a prothean.

“A memory...of one of my people,” Javik said softly.

“Why didn’t you finish the Crucible?” Shepard asked. “Why didn’t you deploy it against the Reapers?”

“We were sabotaged from within. A splinter group argued we should dominate the Reapers rather than destroy them. We later found out that they were indoctrinated,” the VI explained. The more things change, Shepard thought.

“There’s still hope for this cycle. We need to know what the Catalyst is. Trillions of lives are at risk!” she protested.

“Trillions of lives are always at risk. But if the Reapers have arrived to end this cycle, then this discussion is too late,” the VI replied. Shepard shook her head.

“You're not listening to me. We can break the cycle! We found your plans for the Crucible, we’re building it right now!”

“The Crucible is not a Prothean design. It is the work of countless galactic cycles stretching back millions of years. Each cycle adds to it, improves it. None have successfully defeated the Reapers with it.”

“Then we’ll be the first,” Shepard promised grimly.

“Listen to the human. She can be trusted,” Javik said, and Shepard fought to keep her surprise from her face. The VI turned to face Javik.

“You are one of us. You are Prothean,” it said curiously.

“The last. I am the last hope to avenge our people,” Javik said quietly. The VI nodded.

“Your mission was known to me. You believe that this cycle can destroy the Reapers?” 

“They have earned the right to try,” Javik replied, looking at Shepard. She raised an eyebrow, and he slightly inclined his head.

“Very well then, we will help you-- Alert: we detect the presence of indoctrination. Security protocols activated.” The VI dissolved into the air, disappearing back into the statue of Athame. Shepard spun around as Kai Leng sauntered into the temple. She narrowed her eyes at him, her teeth bared in a sneer.

“I have a message for you,” he said. He tossed a portable hologram forward. Gratingly familiar salt-and-pepper hair and cybernetic blue eyes regarded Shepard coolly.

“Shepard, why am I not surprised to see you here?” The Illusive Man drawled. Shepard’s eyes stayed on Kai Leng, pacing along the back of the room.

“A displeasure, as always,” she replied.

“Always so abrasive. So short-sighted. This data is the key to controlling the Reapers.” _We later found out that they were indoctrinated._

“Or destroying them. Just this once, do the right thing,” Shepard snapped.

“I always do the right thing. I know how they work, Shepard.”

“That VI left because it sensed indoctrination. I think you’ve been spending too much time with the enemy.”

“I-- no. I just see things differently.” Was that hesitation? She pressed her advantage.

“So did Saren,” she said quietly.

“You’re wrong,” he said, a second too late. There was something in his voice. Shepard raised an eyebrow.

“And if I am? You’re still making the wrong choice. You’d sacrifice all of humanity if it guaranteed you power,” she spat. “What's the point of control if you've lost everything else?” But the moment was lost. Whatever doubt had been in his inhuman eyes was gone, replaced with his usual sickening confidence.

“Leng, the Commander has something I need. Relieve her of it.” The hologram disappeared and Leng unsheathed his sword.

“With pleasure,” he said. Shepard drew her gun.

“You don’t frighten me, boy,” she said calmly.

“Not yet,” he said, and a Cerberus gunship appeared behind him. Shepard quickly ducked behind the pews of the temple to avoid the gunfire. She leaned out of cover long enough to get a fix on Leng, and she fired three devastation shots on him, immediately taking out his shields.

“Cover me, I need to recharge!” Kai Leng shouted. The gunship opened fire, sending Shepard and the other reeling for cover again. 

“What’s the matter, too afraid to fight me on your own?” Shepard taunted. 

“Target the supports,” Leng called. _Shit._ Shepard only had a moment to register the words before the building began tumbling down around her. She threw herself to the side as heavy blocks of cement fell from the ceiling. Leng blithely strolled past her to get the information from the beacon, and Shepard had to fight to keep herself from being smashed to pieces. She lost track of Liara and Javik, and just had to hope that they made it through.

“Cerberus thanks you for your hard work,” Leng said smugly.

The floor gave out beneath Shepard, and she was falling. She wildly grabbed for something, anything, and she managed to catch the edge of a long chunk of the floor, still somehow attached to the rest. She didn’t look down. Gritting her teeth, she hauled herself upwards, trying to find handholds along the jagged edge of the cement. The weight of her weapons and armour threatened to send her crashing down, but she held on. Her first memories were of a church, it’d be a cruel twist of fate if her last memories were of a church, she thought.

No. She’d soloed a damn Reaper, she wasn’t about to be taken out by scaffolding. She caught hold of the top of the bottomless drop, and fought to drag her body up. She got to the top just in time to watch, helpless, as Leng strolled away with the data.

“You’re a coward,” she spat after him. Leng glanced over and raised a leg as if to stomp on her fingertips. A message from the gunship buzzed through his comms, and he had the audacity to shrug nonchalantly. 

“Better luck next time, Shepard,” he called over his shoulder. Shepard clenched her jaw and tried to haul herself up. She lost her grip. Feather-light singing in her ears. Or was it screaming?

“Shepard!” Liara cried. Warm hands grabbed hers and dragged her upwards. Shepard was barely clear of the abyss before she was racing forwards, picking up the first gun she could find to fire on the gunship. She fired, each shot ricocheting through her arm. But it was too late. Too damn late. Failure settled heavily on her shoulders. 

“Is anyone there? We need help!” Lieutenant Kurin called over the comms. Shepard held a hand up to her ear. At least she could save Kurin's squad. She could do that.

“This is Shepard, we read you. What’s your location?” she said.

“Hello? Does anyone read me?” _No, please no._

“We read you--”

“Does anyone know if Shepard made it to the temple?” There was a horrible gasping scream, and then silence.

“The Lieutenant is down, and we have a Reaper inbound! Oh, goddess, please!”

Shepard watched numbly as the Reapers came down on the city, leaving nothing in their wake. Another planet fallen, and nothing she could do to stop it. She’d been so close, so goddamn close to the solution, only to have it fucking ripped away by Cerberus. She swayed on her feet, but she stayed upright. The trip back to the Normandy was a blur, and she barely registered changing out of her armour, only vaguely aware of making her way to the war room.

She leaned heavily against the wall in the comm room, her pulse thudding against her temples. The incoming message button was blinking rapidly. Shepard clung tightly to the ice pack as she accepted the call from the asari councilor.

“Councilor, I’m sorry the news isn’t better,” Shepard said, her jaw clenched. “Thessia has fallen.”

“I know, I...do you believe the data will help complete the project?” the councilor asked. And Shepard shut her eyes at that, for a moment. There were no tears. She was past tears. She opened her eyes.

“Cerberus was there. They took the data. I was too late,” she said. Her voice shook a little. From sorrow or rage, she couldn’t tell.

“Oh...I see,” the councilor said, and there were unshed tears in her voice. “I have to go, Commander. Continuation of civilization work to do…” she trailed off. The call disconnected.

Shepard’s fist hit the wall a moment later, and she hissed loudly. There’d be bruises. But damn it, _damn it. What the fuck._ She was pissed at Cerberus, and devastated as she was at the loss of Thessia. But past that, she was incandescent in her rage that the goddamn support the asari had denied Earth had been for nothing. Their planet had fallen so quickly, and they _blamed Shepard for it._ The unfairness of it threatened to choke her. A very small part of her, the part that ached to be ruthless, that wished so desperately not to care, couldn’t help but feel that the asari had dug their own damn graves.

But that wasn’t right, was it? Because the soldiers she’d met, the untold civilians, they had no clue what was being kept in that temple, hidden away from the rest of the galaxy. It was politicians that had kept this secret, from their own people and from the world. The same politicians that had refused to move an inch to help Earth. That had refused to listen to Shepard’s warnings about the Reapers three years ago, even though they had the information at their disposal _the whole time._

But somehow, some way, it all came down to Shepard’s failure. They’d sent her in as a band aid solution, yet again, and it hadn’t worked. Vasir was right; Spectres were just there to do the Council’s dirty work. And when it went south, the responsibility fell on Shepard’s shoulders. She slammed the wall one final time and stormed into the war room.

“That’s it, I’m finished being jerked around by Cerberus. We’re taking the fight to them,” Shepard spat. A handful of the crew were scattered around the room, politely pretending they hadn’t just been talking about her. Even more politely pretending they hadn’t heard her muffled swearing and punching the wall.

“Hell yeah!” James said.

“Any leads on where we could find them?” Shepard asked, folding her arms.

“Yes, Specialist Traynor tracked Kai Leng’s ship to the Iera system, before losing the signal,” EDI explained.

“Damn it.”

“You misunderstand: the signal is being _deliberately_ blocked. It was through Specialist Traynor’s ingenuity and dedication that we were able to determine that he has landed on Horizon.” A dark flush raced across Traynor's face at the praise. Shepard forced herself to smile.

“Oh. Good work, both of you,” she said.

“Commander, when I was stationed on Horizon, the only Cerberus presence in the area was you,” Ash said. Shepard winced internally at the reminder. _I would have followed you anywhere, commander._ Seemed the universe just wanted to kick her while she was down, huh?

“It’s looking like our best and only option at the moment,” Shepard said, rubbing at the back of her neck. “Dismissed.”

There comes a certain point where the human brain refuses to continue operating, where it shuts down to protect you. That was the state Shepard was in as she made her way to her cabin and settled herself down behind her desk. She absentmindedly clicked through a message from Asari Military Command _._ And then her vision flashed red and she was rocketed back into her body.

_Good. You opened this message. This isn't actually asari military command. They're busy tending to what's left of their planet. So you survived our fight on Thessia. You're not as weak as I thought. But never forget that your best wasn't good enough to stop me. Now an entire planet is dying because you lacked the strength to win. The legend of Shepard needs to be rewritten. I hope I'm there for the last chapter. It ends with your death._

_-Kai Leng_

Bastard. _Bastard._ She was brittle, too brittle, in a way she hadn’t been for a very long time. That thought stilled her hands, knuckles bleached white against the message terminal. The universe had a special sense of irony, throwing Shepard into a galactic war just as she was beginning to forgive herself. And now there was another fleet of blackboards stained white, staring balefully back at her.

Every time someone told her it wasn’t her fault, it meant that they assumed she blamed herself. Or maybe that they thought she should. There was a disconcerting lurch in her stomach as she realized that she _didn’t_ hold herself responsible. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t even the asari’s fault, although it sure would’ve made life a hell of a lot easier if they hadn’t kept the beacon a secret. It was the Reapers, and it was Cerberus.

And Kai Leng, who seemed to consider himself some kind of arch-rival to Shepard. His file had said he was N7, and ex Alliance Lieutenant. Cerberus’ top agent.

Except that he wasn’t, was he? Cerberus had poured in outrageous sums of money to bring Shepard back from the dead, and the Illusive Man had said that no one else could complete the mission to stop the collectors. Shepard didn’t trust the man further than she could throw him, but she didn’t think he’d been lying about that. Which meant that poor little Kai Leng had been rejected in favour of a dead woman.

His mocking was infantile, childish, because he was jealous of Shepard. He had barely been able to hold his own against her without the help of a missile launching gunship. If that bastard thought he was going to play mind games with her, he was going to be sorely disappointed. He wanted attention, and he wasn’t going to get it.

She deleted the email.

If she let herself give in to despair, then the bad guys won. If she blamed herself or her allies for their actions, they won. She wasn’t going to give them the damn satisfaction. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next up is priority: horizon but THEN IT'S CITADEL BABEYYYYY


	37. Old Horizons, New Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Priority: Horizon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in the home stretch now! (ish)

“Commander, we have a problem on deck three,” Traynor called urgently over the comms. Resignedly, Shepard made her way to the elevator (would it kill them to install stairs?) and travelled to deck three. As soon as the doors opened, she heard muffled shouting coming from the Port Cargo. 

She hit the door open button and marched in. She immediately ducked, narrowly avoiding a biotically controlled box hurled from the back of the room. Liara was sheathed in shimmering biotic energy, her hands balled up into fists. Javik was leaning against the tables along the back of the room.

“Those were all lies back there!” Liara shouted.

“They were not,” Javik said sharply. 

“My people weren’t animals for your kind to experiment on!” 

“You wanted to know more about your history, asari. Now you do,” he replied.

“I have a name! It’s Liara T’Soni, and I’d appreciate you using it from now on!” The wounds from Thessia were still painfully raw, and Shepard didn’t think she had the patience to deal with this right now. But if she didn't, who would? She carefully reached out and settled her hand on Liara’s shoulder. Energy crackled unpleasantly up along her arm, setting her hair on end.

“What's the problem?” she asked, in what she hoped was a non-confrontational voice. 

“My home was just destroyed, and all he can do is gloat!” _Ah._ Shepard’s eyes moved to Javik’s impassive face.

“Given what’s happened today, I think you owe Liara an apology, Javik,” she said. It wasn’t a suggestion.

“Apologize for the truth?” he demanded, folding his arms. Liara pushed forward, pointing at him accusingly.

“For not doing more! You’re a Prothean. You were supposed to have all the answers! How could you not stop this from happening?” she cried, her voice cracking on the final words.

“We believed you would,” Javik said quietly. Liara’s biotics vanished, and her eyes darted from Shepard’s face back to Javik. Shepard pursed her lips, but she remained silent.

“Long ago we saw the potential in your people,” he continued. “Even then it was obvious: the wisdom. The patience. You were the best hope for this cycle. So you were...guided, when necessary.”

“Well, it didn’t work,” Liara whispered.

“You’re still alive, aren’t you? Your world may have fallen, but so long as even one asari is left standing, the fight isn’t lost,” he replied. Liara visibly relaxed, and Shepard let her hand fall from her shoulder.

“I guess that goes for Protheans, too,” Liara admitted, and the rest of the tension left the room.

“Despair is the enemy’s greatest weapon. Do not let them wield it...Liara T’Soni,” Javik finished. Liara studied Javik’s face. Eventually, she nodded and left. Shepard lingered, her arms folded.

“You’re getting better at that,” she said at last. Javik leaned back nonchalantly.

“At what?” he asked.

“Telling people what they need to hear.”

“What if I was telling the truth?” he said. She chuckled mirthlessly.

“I’ve had to give the same speech too many damn times. I recognize the voice.” Time had worn away the bitterness in her voice to a dull edge. “Liara would have as well, if she didn’t want to believe you so badly.”

Javik considered her for a moment. “Will you tell her?”

“Of course not,” Shepard replied. “My opinion doesn’t matter. And besides, who am I to say you’re wrong?”

“Who indeed,” he said quietly. Shepard left then, to comfort her friend. 

As she spoke to Liara, she recognized the same voice that Javik had used. She pushed that thought away.

“Shepard, I could have stopped this,” Liara rasped. “If they’d just listened to you, if I’d made them listen--” 

Shepard shook her head and placed her hand on top of Liara’s. Liara drew away, and Shepard told herself that that didn’t hurt.

“This isn’t your fault,” Shepard said firmly.

“How do you know?” her friend asked.

“Because I know who’s responsible,” Shepard said without hesitation, “and it sure as hell isn’t you.”

“My home...it’s gone,” Liara whispered brokenly.

“I know,” Shepard murmured. “I know.”

“Come on,” she said after a moment. She pulled at Liara’s arm, tugging her over to the rows of computer screens that were set up in the room. “There’s about to be an influx of refugees off of Thessia, and I imagine the Shadow Broker could be very helpful to them.”

“I...suppose you’re right,” Liara said. Her hands hovered hesitantly over the keyboard.

“They need you, Liara,” Shepard said softly.

“Yes,” Liara said at last. “Yes. Thank you, Shepard. I can’t talk about it right now, but-- thank you.”

Shepard gave Liara’s arm a quick squeeze. “We’re not out of the fight yet.” She moved to leave, but Liara grabbed her hand.

“I’m sorry for what I said about springing for air support, it was cruel of me. I’ve seen the reports from your sister, I should have known--” she began. Shepard gently shushed her.

“You’ve just lost your home. I know what that’s like, you don’t need to justify yourself to me,” she said. She pressed a kiss to Liara’s forehead, and she smiled warmly. “Now go do what you do best.”

“Alright. Thank you, Shepard. For understanding,” Liara whispered. Shepard nodded, and she left.

  
It was odd, taking a shuttle down to Horizon. The last time she’d been here had been with Garrus and Jack, in a body too new and too sharp. Ash had turned her back on her for the first time, had broken her in every way possible. Now she was riding down in a shuttle again, Ash and Garrus to either side of her. Life was a funny thing. 

The shuttle’s vid screen flickered to life. A recording of a young woman with cropped black hair appeared, worry splitting her brow. 

“Whoever you are, you need to leave,” she said urgently. “Sanctuary isn’t what it seems. You need to leave.”

“That’s Miranda’s sister, Oriana,” Shepard said. “What’s she doing here?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” Ash said.

It was quiet, when they landed at Sanctuary. Almost, as they might say in a low-budget action vid, too quiet. It set Shepard’s teeth on edge. The whole place had a certain cold, impersonal similarity to the Project Lazarus facility. There was a phantom pain in Shepard’s palms that she hadn’t felt in months. There were scattered dead Cerberus agents and Reaper forces spread across the ground.

“About damn time Cerberus and the Reapers started fighting each other,” Shepard said, to break the silence more than anything else.

“And here I thought they were getting along so well,” Garrus replied. A harvester came tearing through the sky and Shepard immediately readied her weapon, but it just continued on up to the comm tower looming over the building.

“Commander, we’re getting interference,” Cortez’s voice crackled along the line.

“Fall back,” Shepard ordered. “We’ll take it from here.”

“To the tower then?” Garrus asked.

“Looks like it,” Shepard said.

“You never take us anywhere nice,” he replied. Shepard's smile was strained as they continued on into the building.

“Welcome to Sanctuary.” The disembodied, emotionless voice of a woman echoed through the empty corridors. “Remember, all communication devices and personal belongings must be surrendered at the door. We hope you have a pleasant stay.”

“This wasn’t here while I was stationed here,” Ash said quietly. 

There was something oppressive about the wide open space of the Sanctuary reception. Shepard stayed close to Garrus and Ash, instead of scouting on ahead. She heard a faint clattering in the next room, and she motioned for the others to get into position. The Cerberus agents were dead in a handful of moments. There were dead rachni already sprawled across the floor, along with even more Cerberus soldiers. 

“If you’ve gotten this far, you’re either very brave or very stupid, although I suppose those things aren’t mutually exclusive,” a voice called. Shepard shared a glance with Garrus.

“Was that…?” he said.

“Miranda,” Shepard agreed. They collectively sped up, but all they found in the next room was a security camera terminal. But sure enough, there was Miranda on the screen, dressed in unfamiliar, non-descript clothes. At least she’d ditched that horrible Cerberus uniform.

“If you’ve gotten this far, you’re either very brave or very stupid, although I suppose those things aren’t mutually exclusive,” Miranda repeated. “Sanctuary is a trap. There’s something going on here, and I know my father is involved.” She turned at a sudden noise, and left quickly. A moment later, Kai Leng appeared, and the screen went blank.

“Shit, we have to help her,” Shepard said. She’d warned Miranda about Leng, and she’d given her access to Alliance resources to find her sister, but she was worried about her all the same. They hurried through the facility, until they came to an abrupt halt. There was a reflective pool that spread from wall to wall.

“So do we start swimming?” Garrus asked. Shepard caught sight of the water controls and she pressed the button to drain the water. The water fell away to reveal a back entrance into the facility.

“Secret back entrance. Never a good sign,” Ash said.

“Took the words right out of my mouth, Williams,” Garrus agreed. Shepard slid down the ladder and landed lightly on her feet. They carefully crept through the facility. Shepard didn’t particularly fancy rushing headlong through the facility; it still creeped the hell out of her.

They reached a large room with a large window on the opposite wall, peering off into darkness. There was an impressively large computer terminal, and Shepard idly turned on the screens. Short videos played, from some kind of security camera. Refugees were sent into tubes, not unlike the ones they’d seen on the collector homeworld. Harsh, jagged screaming echoed through the room. The video cut out, and when it returned husks were crawling along the walls of the tubes. Shepard could feel screams clawing at her own throat. 

“It was a trap,” Ash breathed. “They lured them here with the promise of safety. _Bastards.”_ Shepard’s shaking hands hovered over the switch for the lights. She pressed down, and the observation window lit up, revealing a huge corridor lined with identical tubes.

It was quiet. Shepard leaned forward, peering into the room.

_BANG._ A husk appeared at eye level with her, climbing up the edge of the glass. Shepard stumbled back into Ash and Garrus, and they each put a steadying hand on her. The husk turned its head at an unnatural angle, fixated on Shepard. It began to slam its fists against the glass, but to no avail. It slunk away, but there were more to replace it, crawling along the floor, the walls, the ceiling of the room.

“All good, Shepard?” Garrus asked.

“I’ve had better days.” Her voice was strained. “Come on, Miranda needs us.”

Shepard moved down the short flight of stairs to the exit and darted forward to open the door. Then she immediately dashed back up the stairs, remaining at a healthy distance as the husks poured through. Any time one came too close to her, she released a particularly savage incendiary blast against it. She’d grown accustomed to fighting husks since Earth had fallen, but she’d just watched innocent people being twisted and warped into these things. A terrifying, visceral reminder that they’d been human once. She’d almost forgotten. She’d wanted to forget.

They moved through the facility, the eerie silence punctuated by the screeching of banshees, the horrible shuffling of husks. 

“What the hell happened here?” Ash asked.

“Not sure I want to know,” Garrus said. And he was right. As they went, there was more and more evidence to suggest that Cerberus was...experimenting on the refugees. Brutally, callously experimenting on the people who had come here in good faith. Shepard was renowned for her mercy, but she found that it was in awfully short supply at the moment, thinking about what Cerberus had done. Miranda’s familiar Australian drawl bounced around the empty hallways. Shepard found the terminal that had her video on it, and turned on the screen.

“If you’re watching this, I have irrefutable evidence that my father, Henry Lawson, is working with the Illusive Man,” Miranda said. Her image was replaced with a shaky video of Lawson and the Illusive Man talking, confirming that they were trying to mimic the Reaper forces. The refugees were little more than lab rats to them. _I do everything for the good of humanity, to advance us forward._ When she saw the Illusive Man, she’d gladly strangle him with her own damn hands.

“No wonder the Reapers are here,” Garrus breathed.

“Let’s get to that tower,” Shepard said grimly. The rest of the journey passed in relative silence. Shepard, Ash, and Garrus didn’t say a word. The only sounds were the reverberating screams as the Reaper forces fell before them. Brutes came barrelling forward, and they fell. Banshees flew at them, and they fell too. At last, they found their way to the control room. The door opened, and Shepard immediately rolled to the side as a shot came at her, coming up in a crouch.

“Don’t come any closer!” Henry Lawson snapped. He had his arm wrapped around Oriana’s throat, a gun pointed threateningly at Shepard. There was another large observation window dominating the opposite wall. Miranda was sprawled on the floor, unmoving. Fear lodged itself firmly in Shepard’s throat.

“Miranda!” she cried. Miranda shifted and groaned.

“I’m alright,” she said through gritted teeth. Shepard’s eyes flicked back to Henry Lawson, her veneer of calm falling into place. She slowly got to her feet and held up her hands placatingly.

“Henry, I don’t want to kill you,” she said.

“I would also prefer that you not kill me,” he replied. His eyes darted around the room like a cornered animal. “What are your conditions?”

“Let Oriana go, and leave the data behind,” Shepard said.

“You ask a lot,” he said sharply. “This is my legacy.”

“Your legacy is brutalizing innocent people,” Ash spat. Shepard held up a hand, although she felt the same rage bubbling just below the skin.

“Is it worth your life?” she asked quietly. The only sound was Miranda’s pained breathing. Shepard didn’t break eye contact with Lawson.

“I have your word you won’t harm me?” he asked slowly.

“I won’t harm you,” Shepard promised. After a moment, Lawson let go of Oriana, pushing her forward. He carefully backed away, gun still at the ready. Miranda surged to her feet.

“But I sure as hell will,” she spat, and sent him flying backwards through the window with a burst of biotic energy. She swayed slightly on her feet, and Shepard moved forward to catch her. Garrus and Ash both went to check the main hard drive to see if there was anything left.

“All good?” Shepard asked Miranda quietly.

“Kai Leng got me pretty good, but I’m in one piece,” Miranda murmured.

“He still around somewhere?” Shepard asked, eyes scanning the room.

“No, he took the data and left. Did manage to get a tracking device on him first though.”

“That’s my girl,” Shepard said wryly.

“Shepard, it’s completely wiped,” Garrus called. 

“Shit,” Shepard swore softly. Miranda weakly shook her head and reached into a pocket. She pulled out a memory card and held it up.

“Looking for this?” she asked. Shepard smiled crookedly.

“You really did think of everything, huh?” she said.

“Nobody’s perfect.” Miranda said, shrugging. “But come on, let’s show the world exactly what my father and Cerberus have done.”

“With pleasure.”

Together, they altered the restrictions on the comm tower and changed the signal to broadcast to every major political office in the galaxy. Let’s see Cerberus get any more recruits now, Shepard thought bitterly. She escorted Miranda and Oriana to the Normandy, and then she went to have a shower. It was impossible to scrub away the vile things she’d seen, but she was going to give it a damn good try.

  
Much later, hair carefully braided back, she pressed the comms for the bridge.

“Hey Joker?” she said.

“Yes Commander?”

“Set a course for the Citadel. It’s time for some shore leave.”

“Oh hell, no. I don’t want anybody laying a hand on the Normandy.”

“Joker…”

“Alright, alright, fine. But I find anything missing when I come back, I’m blaming you.”

“Noted. Now fly the damn ship, Moreau.”


	38. Concealed Carry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DLC: Citadel, Part 1/3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this fic because I wanted to write the Citadel DLC and now we're here!! I hope you enjoy <3

The apartment was huge. Shepard was sure there were other, fancier words to describe it, but she sure as hell didn’t know them. An entire wall was a window, looking out into the night lights of the Citadel. There were walls wholly covered in green, verdant plants that she couldn’t identify. There was a damn waterfall. Shepard let out a low whistle, looking around. 

For the first time in weeks, she could breathe. These walls weren’t closing in on her, they were too far apart. The ceilings were vaulted like a church, reaching up into the sky. 

She wandered down to what had to be the living room (two giant couches, a fireplace, a grand piano??), and the TV flickered on.

“Shepard, good to see you,” Anderson said. There were new wrinkles creasing his forehead. She could hear distant explosions in the background of the vid.

“And you. How are you holding up?” she asked.

“We’ve had better days,” he said wearily.

“I know what you mean.” Damn, did she ever. “But why am I in this apartment?”

“I want you to have it,” he said, and Shepard’s brows reached her hairline. “I bought the place for Kahlee and I to settle down. Thing is, the longer I stay on Earth, the more I don’t want to leave. Figure someone should get some use out of it.”

“That’s...very generous. Are you sure?”

“It’s practical. We need you at your best, and you need somewhere you can take a break.”

“I-- thank you,” she said. “I’m guessing I don’t have a choice anyways?”

“Not even a little bit. Make yourself at home,” he said, smiling. “You take care, Shepard.”

“You too, Anderson,” Shepard said. He nodded and stepped out of frame. Marie replaced him. Her hair was more grey than black now, but she was smiling nonetheless.

“Good to see you in one piece, Jeanne,” she said. “I hear you killed a Reaper single handedly. Have I mentioned that you should be more careful?” Shepard grinned crookedly.

“Once or twice, maybe.”

“Apparently it bears repeating.” The affectionate exasperation was palpable, even with the light years between them.

“How are things there?” Shepard asked. Marie’s face became carefully blank, but Shepard had known her since she was a child. She couldn’t disguise the look in her deep brown eyes, or the small frown on her lips. Easy to forget, impossible to forget, that she was only 24.

“We’ll make it,” Marie said firmly. And then, _“You’ll_ make it too. That’s an order, Commander.”

Shepard’s grin widened, and she sketched a salute. “Yes, ma’am,” she said. Marie rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. That was all that mattered.

“Go and get some rest, will you? The bags under your eyes are visible from Earth.”

“Harsh, but fair,” Shepard said easily. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Jeanne.” The call disconnected, and Shepard glanced around her new place. _Her_ new place. Even the church had never truly been hers. There weren’t many things she considered truly her own, she supposed.

There were recordings littered around the apartment. Apparently Anderson had taken down voice notes for his biography. She couldn’t help the small, fond smile that flitted across her face. Her hands paused above the one labelled Shepard on the kitchen counter (she’d never had her own kitchen before). She pressed the play button, and she listened.

“Sure, I can talk about Commander Shepard. Big topic. There’s been a lot written about the Commander, but most of it isn’t true. People are quick to judge. They don’t know the whole story, I don’t even know the whole story. But I know the woman. Worked with her, fought with her, trust her with my life. Shepard’s had some rough patches, who of us hasn’t? She’s been forced to fight a lot of battles alone. God only knows how she got out of some of that. Makes your head spin.” 

Anderson’s warm voice filled the apartment, and his every word was laced with pride. Shepard realized belatedly that she was crying, hot tears painting her cheeks. Gently, she sunk to the floor and rested her head against the cupboard. She thought of Aratoht then, as she always seemed to. Makes my head spin too, she thought.

“Thing is, you never heard a complaint. Never once got ‘no sir, I can’t do that.’ She never hesitated. Few people know what Shepard’s been through. I like to think I come pretty close. And I worry sometimes she forgets: there’s a whole bunch of people who lose sleep about her getting back home. Maybe it doesn’t need to be said. Maybe we’re just to dumb to say it. Soldiers like the Commander are rare. Women like Shepard...even more rare.” Anderson’s voice drifted away.

 _I just...you don’t need to do everything alone anymore, you know?_ Garrus had said. Maybe they were right. Her heart was so full. She couldn’t quite pinpoint the warm feeling in her chest. Loved, maybe? Not a word she was used to choosing, but it fit the bill. She carefully picked herself up and dusted herself off, wiping the tears from her eyes. 

Her private message terminal was blinking, and she went to check her unread messages. There was a note from Joker asking him to meet him at a sushi restaurant. Huh. She’d never had sushi before. No time like the present, she supposed.

Shepard glanced down at herself. Perhaps, she thought, her N7 hoodie and cargo pants wouldn’t be appropriate for an upscale sushi place. She wandered upstairs and peeked into her room (there was a hot tub. She’d...well, she’d never had a bath before. No bathtubs in the Alliance). She tugged open the closet and her eyes widened. There was that dress Kasumi had insisted she keep, but next to it was something else entirely. Reverently, she ran her hands over the fabric. It was soft to the touch, velvet maybe? She pulled it out.

It was a suit. It had to be a suit, although it was unlike any she’d ever seen before. The matching pants and jacket were there, but that’s where the similarities stopped. It was a deep blue, but as the fabric shifted in her hands it looked dark burgundy. There was a matching silk black camisole to wear underneath. It felt luxurious, soft as a cloud. She’d never owned anything this expensive that didn’t fire bullets. There was a small note tucked in the pocket.

_Thanks for all your help. Consider this an early birthday gift. Who knows, by the time you take a break it may be your actual birthday. I think I’ve got the measurements right, but nobody’s perfect._   
_\- Miranda_   
_P.S., there’s a white shirt as well, but it’s much harder to get blood stains out of white silk._

Shepard smiled down at the note, and very carefully got dressed, anxious not to damage the clothes. She tugged on the heeled boots that seemed to go with it, and examined herself in the mirror. Miranda might insist that she wasn’t perfect, but she’d done a damn fine job with this. The cuffs fell to the exact right spot on her wrists, and for the first time in her life, the legs were long enough. The boots had a low heel, comfortable and well-balanced enough that she could run.

And Miranda, blessed Miranda, had included a concealed pocket for a switchblade. Shepard loosened her strict braid into something a little more casual, and she smiled at herself in the mirror one last time. Then she left for sushi.

  
The lineup outside the restaurant was around the block and then some. The people waiting were distinctly unhappy that Shepard had a reservation. If looks could kill, Shepard would have been pushing the daisies. She strode past the glares with practiced ease. Joker was seated at a table at the back, and he waved her over.

“Just gotta save the galaxy twice to get a place here, huh?” he said. “Hey, maybe when we do it again they’ll let us eat free!”

“That’s the spirit,” Shepard said. “How are you enjoying your vacation?”

“I feel like I should go check the Normandy for missing parts,” he griped. “I don’t trust those engineers.” Shepard chuckled and patted him on the arm.

“She’ll be fine, Joker. She’s been through the Omega 4, she can handle a few repairs. Relax, you’re on shore leave.”

“I’m gonna need a lot more drinks with umbrellas in them,” he said mournfully.

“I’m the first human Spectre. I’ll get you _two_ umbrellas,” she said wryly.

“Awesome use of power, boss! So, what’d you ask me here to talk about? Your note said it was important.”

“Me? You invited me here,” Shepard said, her eyebrows knitting together.

“Commander Shepard, please I need to talk to you!” A young woman in an Alliance uniform pushed her way forward, with the maitre d’ shouting after her. The people in line looked positively murderous.

“Can I help you?” Shepard asked politely.

“I’m Staff Analyst Maya Brooks of Alliance Intelligence. Someone’s trying to kill you!” the woman cried. Shepard and Joker exchanged a look.

“Uh, yeah. I think she’s aware,” Joker said dryly.

“No! I don’t mean the Reapers and Cerberus. _Other_ people,” Brooks said. “They’re hacking your accounts, your communications, and it looks like they’re targeting you personally!”

“What information do you have?” Shepard asked. She straightened up, suddenly all business.

“Well--” Brooks began.

Bullets rained down from the front of the restaurant. Brooks let out a blood-curdling shriek. Shepard swore softly and dragged Joker down, lifting up their table as a makeshift barricade. A group of heavily armed individuals marched in, their faces masked.

“Tonight’s performance was brought to you by random acts of violence!” one of them shouted.

“Where’s Commander Shepard?” another yelled. “Find her!” They spread out through the restaurant, sending the civilians running.

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. “Two hours. I’ve been on shore leave for two hours. They couldn’t let me have an appetizer first?”

One of the mercs hauled away Brooks, kicking and screaming. Shepard grabbed the knife she had tucked away in her coat.

“Why do you have that?? We were going for dinner!” Joker hissed.

“Would you rather I didn’t have it right now? I have a few others, do you want one?” she asked, taking stock of the room.

“No???”

“Joker, I need you to stay calm,” Shepard whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to take these guys out. When the coast is clear, go find the rest of the team. But I need you to stay here until it’s safe, understood?”

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” he said fervently. One of the mercenaries approached to look behind the table. Shepard caught his arm and sent him sprawling to the ground, following it up with a devastating jab from her omni-tool directly to the face. She grabbed his gun and held it at the ready. She glanced around her cover and saw two more mercs coming at her. One went down with a shot to the face, the other with a thrown knife to the throat.

“Joker, now!” she hissed. Joker got up and stumbled away as best he could. Once he was out, Shepard activated her tactical cloak and booked it across the room. If there was one thing she’d learned these long years, it was that the best fight was the one you avoided. Once she’d made it to Brooks, she tried to help her to her feet. A sniper appeared from above and fired a shot, hitting Brooks. Shepard backed away and each shot landed by her, sinking into the ground.

If only the restaurant hadn’t decided to use fish tanks as their floor.

Shepard went down, glass shattering around her. She seemed to hit every bone on the way down the side of the building, banging into the wall over and over again. She slammed into the ground hard, all of her freshly-healed wounds screaming obscenities at her.

“Commander!” Brooks called over the comms. “Are you alright?”

“Peachy,” Shepard groaned. “Can you find me a way out of here?” Dr. Chakwas was going to have a fit. She’d been off the ship two hours and she was already broken again. Ugh. At least the clothes seemed to be in one piece. Small mercies, Shepard supposed, as she struggled to her feet.

“Uh, yes! Keep going forward, I think!” Brooks said. Shepard grit her teeth.

“Thanks,” she managed. She slid down the ladder up ahead of her and took a look around. Somewhere in the wards, she figured.

“There’s a sky-car lot up ahead of me, Brooks. Could you find me a path there?” Shepard asked.

“Ah, yes! Of course!” Brooks replied nervously. Shepard tried very hard not to roll her eyes as she wove her way through the wards. She came up on some kind of market, and she caught sight of another group of mercs barrelling towards her.

“There she is!” one of them called. Shit. This outfit really wasn’t built for stealth, huh? God, she’d kill for a rifle right about now. Instead, she slipped back into her tactical cloak and hid behind a fruit stand. What a weird fucking day.

“Shepard! Are you alright?” It was a relief to hear Garrus’ voice, even if it was only through her earpiece. Tension she didn’t realize she’d been carrying dissipated, ever so slightly.

“I’m fine, but I could use a hand,” she said ruefully, aiming an incendiary blast directly to the face of one of her attackers.

“Joker sent me your location, I’m on my way,” he said immediately.

“This is a secure channel!” Brooks cut in. “You’re putting Commander Shepard at risk!”

“I’m _what?_ Who is this?” Garrus demanded.

“Brooks, Garrus. Garrus, this is Brooks,” Shepard said. “Now please hush, it's a little hard to kill mercenaries with people arguing in my ear.”

“Shepard, I am sending backup to your location,” EDI said.

“Sounds good, things are getting a little dicey here,” Shepard replied. She glanced over the fruit stall and had to duck quickly as a drone came barrelling towards her. It exploded directly next to her, sending pieces of watermelon and blueberries flying.

“I will attempt to register surprise,” EDI said dryly. Shepard grinned crookedly at that. She dashed forward as another round of mercs came at her. She spent the next several minutes fading in and out of invisibility, running hell for leather past the mercs. Her legs, miraculously, stayed upright. Small mercies. She pulled into the car lot and slammed the door shut behind her. A shot zipped past her, missing by inches.  
…  
“Having a bad day, Shepard?” Garrus called. He took out the merc that had shot at her, and scanned the area for any more threats. It looked like they were clear for the moment. Now to find a way out of the lot.

“You could say that,” she said, pushing flyaway hairs away from her face. “Let’s look for a control panel.” His eyes finally came to rest on her and his breath stuttered in his throat. She was wearing that thing humans called a ‘suit,’ but not like any he’d ever seen before. His mouth was suddenly too dry.

“Nice outfit,” he managed. The look she gave him was unimpressed, but he wasn’t thinking with his brain at the moment. “Ah, control panel. Right.”

Shepard strode through the lot and glanced into the darkened office. She gently tapped on the glass. Garrus hurried after her.

“Could you open the doors up?” she said politely. The doors opened a second later. “Much appreciated.”

“Please leave,” the volus inside pleaded.

Garrus motioned for Shepard to stay behind him. Only one of them was armoured, after all. She raised an eyebrow and took point.

“So...you fell through a fish tank?” he ventured.

“We’ll talk about it later,” she replied.

“Damn shame,” he said, and now he was just doing it for the reaction. Midnight blue fabric. Not thinking with his brain. “I hear it was the best on the Citadel.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” she said more firmly, but there was a twinkle in her eyes. He gave her arm a quick squeeze, and then they both stepped onto the landing zone. That Brooks person had apparently radioed to say that a C-Sec shuttle was on the way. When it appeared though, the door opened to reveal a group of the same mercs that had been attacking Shepard. Garrus ducked down and dragged her with him. Bullets skittered across the ground around them.

“Any chance I could borrow that Widow of yours?” she asked breathlessly. He looked at her incredulously.

“I must not have heard you right,” he said. “You definitely did not just ask to borrow my favourite gun.” She opened her mouth to reply, and then her eyes widened.

“Do you hear that?” she asked.

“Hear what?”

“Krogan coming through!” Wrex bellowed, soaring through the air. He slammed down onto the front of the shuttle, sending half of the mercenaries flying. He mowed his way through the other half, shooting, punching, and in one case, launching them off the shuttle. Shepard was grinning wildly.

“Wrex! What are you doing here?” she asked, running forward.

“Negotiating krogan expansion with the Council,” he explained. “But that AI of yours said there’d be a fight. So here I am.”

“Glad you could make it to the party," Garrus lied through his teeth.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Wrex said. He clapped Garrus on the shoulder harder than necessary. “Figured Shepard would need some help, if you’re the only backup she has.”

“Try to keep up, old man,” Garrus shot back.

“It may have escaped your notice, but we are being shot at right now, boys,” Shepard said dryly. Ah, right. Fair point.  
...  
Once they were clear, they gathered in Shepard’s new apartment. Brooks was pacing back and forth, and Shepard put a steadying hand on her shoulder.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

“Me? I got shot! Like, with an actual bullet. I took a desk job so I wouldn’t get shot! They said the medi-gel might make me jumpy, do I seem jumpy to you?” Brooks said.

“Hey, hey,” Shepard said soothingly, the voice she usually reserved for grieving families. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.”

“We need to stop those guys, they might hurt more innocent people! Like me! I got shot!”

“Yes. Do we have any leads?” Shepard asked. The door to the apartment opened gently and Liara stepped through.

“I may have some suggestions on that,” she said. “Are you alright, Shepard?”

“I think my ribs are bruised again, but what else is new?” Shepard said ruefully. “That C-Sec shuttle should have had officers in it. I’ll get in touch with Commander Bailey, see what happened,” Shepard said, punching in the number in her omni-tool.

“Wait!” Brooks said. Everyone turned to look at her. “Uh, wouldn’t anyone you contact also become a target?”

“She’s got a point,” Garrus said.

Shepard nodded brusquely. “You're right. We keep this between us for now.”

“Fortunately, I’ve brought a few people who can help,” Liara said cheerfully. The door was knocked on its hinges as every member of her crew -- and a few people who weren’t -- filed in. The apartment was large, but even so Shepard was going to need to figure out where to put all of these people. What, was there an event going on at the Citadel right now that had brought them all there? Well, besides her attempted assassination.

“The riff-raff have arrived. Garrus, hide the silverware.” Shepard’s voice was pitched to carry.

“Up yours, Shepard,” Jack shot back.

“What she said,” Zaeed added.

"I'll go see what I can find. Come find me when you have a moment," Liara said.

Shepard wandered around to speak with everyone, but it all just seemed to be variations on the theme of “haha Shepard ruined the sushi restaurant” or “Shepard, how could you destroy that sushi restaurant”? Evidently they’d collectively decided to forget that she hadn't exactly chosen to be shot at. What compassionate friends she had, she thought wryly. She gave up after a while and went to talk to Liara.

“What's the word?” she asked. The others slowly gathered around. There was barely enough room for them all to stand together. 

“That pistol you found, it’s not available anywhere on the market. I’ve tracked it to a weapons dealer named Elijah Khan. He owns a casino nearby. They’re holding a charity event tonight,” Liara explained.

“So we sneak in and talk to this Khan guy?” Ash asked.

“My sources tell me he’s locked himself in his panic room. We would need someone to sneak inside this vent system.” Liara pulled up a map of the casino interior. “And deactivate the lock.”

“I say we blow the place to high heaven,” Zaeed suggested.

“I’m in,” Wrex said immediately.

“I’m open to other suggestions,” Shepard said. _“Any_ other suggestions.” Zaeed politely flipped her off.

“Bringing a large group would arouse suspicion,” Thane said thoughtfully. “A covert infiltration would be best.” Shepard nodded.

“Alright, just a small crew then. I’ll need someone to take point with me, and then someone else will crawl through that vent,” Shepard said. “Any takers for the vent?” She looked around the room for volunteers. They were not forthcoming.

“Mechs are not allowed in case they are used for cheating. Legion and I will not be able to enter,” EDI explained. Shepard’s eyes swung to Tali and she raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t look at me!” Tali protested. “They’d uh...pick up my suit!” Shepard shrugged.

“What you need is somebody trained in zero-emissions tech. No electronics, no metal. Just undetectable polymers. We had a course back at Op-Int, disabling a bomb with these little tweezers. See, the bomb was filled with shaving cream…” Brooks trailed off as she realized everyone was looking at her. Shepard smiled at her reassuringly.

“Alright Brooks, you’re our alternate,” she said.

“What? Me? I couldn’t...what do you mean alternate?” Brooks asked. Shepard smiled ruefully.

“I wouldn’t want to put you in more danger. You’ve already been shot once. And since I’ve had two gun mods go missing since I got here, I have a sneaking suspicion that there’s someone here who can lend a helping hand. Kasumi?”

The galaxy’s best thief materialized, sitting on the kitchen counter. She had a cheeky grin under her hood.

“You’re getting very good at that,” she said cheerfully.

“Sure would’ve been awkward if I’d been wrong,” Shepard replied wryly. 

“Damn, I should’ve stayed hidden!”

“What do you say to a heist with me?” Shepard asked. Kasumi hopped down from the counter and sketched a bow.

“I’d be delighted,” she said.

“There’s just one problem,” Liara cut in.

“Current estimate: 57 problems and counting,” Mordin replied. “Additional 34 if you decide to take the krogan.” Shepard couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face.

“Well, one of the problems is that it’s black-tie only,” Liara said. Shepard raised an eyebrow and glanced down at her outfit. It was still damp from crashing through a fish tank, but otherwise undamaged.

“Will this do?” she asked, motioning to the suit.

“It’ll more than do,” Garrus said huskily, and then coughed awkwardly when several sets of eyes turned to look at him. “What? I’m just answering the question.”

“Who’s going with us then?” Kasumi asked, and Shepard grinned.

  
Bright lights flashed in Shepard’s eyes as she and Garrus walked down the literal red carpet, arm-in-arm. Maybe one day they’d get to go somewhere nice without worrying about a nefarious plot. For now, she was on vacation and she was going to enjoy herself, attempts on her life be damned.

“You clean up well,” Shepard commented. He had on another of those intricate turian outfits, with more buckles than fabric, in a combination of black and white. He wore it well. They were, she imagined, quite a striking couple. For one, they were a good head taller than anyone else. For two, well...

“Yeah? Then it’s a damn shame that all eyes are on you,” Garrus replied.

“I did the best I could without a carapace or a crest,” she said wryly.

“Well your best has my mandible on the floor. Damn!” he said easily.

“You two are adorable,” Kasumi said from somewhere to Shepard’s left. Shepard flushed a brilliant red, and she heard Kasumi laugh brightly.

Shepard and Garrus mingled with the wealthy clientele, occasionally providing support for Kasumi as she travelled through the vents. Shepard realized, suddenly, that this was the bright and shining culture she’d seen from afar when she was younger. This was what she’d wanted to experience. As far as she was concerned, they could keep it.

Distracting the guards to disable the alarms wasn’t exactly a walk in the park, but they managed it. But when they arrived in the panic room, Khan was already dead. _Shit._

“It’s never that easy, huh?” Garrus asked.

“He received a call a few minutes before he died. Give them a ring and I’ll see if I can trace it,” Kasumi said. The large screen behind the desk flickered to light and a figure appeared on the screen. Their face was concealed by static, and their voice was altered.

“Elijah? Come crawling back?” they asked.

“Guess again,” Shepard said. Kasumi's hands flashed across her omni-tool.

“ _You._ I see you’ve recovered from flopping on the floor like a fish.”

“You’ll have to do better than that. The last guy that trash-talked me was a few kilometres taller than you.” Shepard leaned back, crossing her arms.

“Brave. I thought as much, but it won’t matter. You have nothing. All you can do is wait for the hammer to fall. I’m going to take everything you have, and everything you are.” The call ended.

“Gotcha,” Kasumi said brightly.

“Shepard, someone’s wiped the drive. Bit of a messy job though, there might be something left,” Garrus said.

“Between EDI, Legion, and Tali, I’m sure we’ll be able to find something. Let’s go.”

  
They were once more gathered around the pool table, now with even less room than before. They were discussing the information they’d been able to find on Khan’s drive, mostly information about the guns that Shepard’s attackers had bought. Glyph flew over and hovered above the table, flashing red.

“Commander, I have found your Spectre code being used at the Citadel Archives,” he said.

“What would they want there?” Shepard asked.

“Shall we go find out?” Liara said.

“But who? We can’t bring everyone,” Brooks piped up. Shepard grinned.

“Why not?” she asked. “All hands on deck for this one.”

“Very well, but who will take point with you?” Liara asked. Wrex coughed pointedly. And then Javik coughed even more pointedly. Tali coughed politely, but also pointedly.

“Garrus and Jack, you’re with me. Everyone else, divide up into three teams of whoever is least likely to want to kill each other.”

“What happens if I want to kill bird-brain?” Jack asked.

“Think happy thoughts,” Shepard suggested.

“Those are my happy thoughts,” Jack replied snarkily. Ah. Some things never changed.

  
They’d barely made it into the archives when they walked into a trap. The others were up on the catwalks above, and every door in the room slammed shut. A figure appeared behind Brooks and pressed a gun to her temple. They were shadowed, and even Shepard’s excellent vision couldn’t quite make them out.

“Don’t move, or she dies,” they said.

“Who are you?” Shepard demanded. The figure chuckled darkly.

 _Why do I know that voice?_ Shepard wondered. The figure tossed Brooks aside, and strode forward into the light. She wore the same uniform as the mercs, but her face…Shepard stared back at her own Roman nose and burning red hair. Only not quite. This nose had never been broken, and there wasn’t the familiar patchwork quilt of scar tissue across her face and neck. 

“I’m you, but better,” the other Shepard said. “Without all the doubts and the wear and tear.”

“Huh. This officially takes the cake for the weirdest thing that’s happened to me,” Shepard said. “Let me rephrase: what the fuck is going on?”

“Cerberus spared no expense when it came to bringing you back. Me, they made for spare parts, in case you needed an arm, or a lung, or a kidney. When they had you, they discarded me,” her clone snapped. Shepard’s brows knit together.

“Well if you’re me, then we should be working together,” she said. The clone scoffed.

“Why would I bother helping you? Why should I care? You took everything from me, and now I’m going to take everything from you. But there was no way I’d fool your friends, so I needed to get rid of them as well. All the people that turned their backs of their responsibilities to join the cult of Shepard,” the clone spat. _The cult of Shepard…?_

“No one will ever believe you’re me,” Shepard said, trying a different tactic.

“Sure they will, when I’m flying your ship,” the clone replied. Shepard froze and then immediately started keying into her omni-tool.

“Traynor, I need you to lock down the ship, understood? Here are the command codes,” she said quickly. Her clone smirked and waved a hand in front of her.

“Good idea, if only that message had been sent,” she said. She keyed up her own omni-tool and raised her voice slightly. “Traynor, this is Shepard. Prepare for departure. Here are the command codes.”

Shepard’s hands balled up into fists. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before someone steals my ship.”

The clone shrugged nonchalantly. “We’ll see about that.” She turned to leave.

“Tell me,” Shepard called after her. “Do you know your own name?”

“It’s Joan,” the clone replied smugly. Shepard grinned, baring her teeth. 

“Guess again,” she said, and she activated her tactical cloak.

  
They fought their way through the archives, the other teams racing on the catwalks above. Liara’s information drone, Glyph, scouted ahead. Occasionally he returned, saying that he mistook the clone for Shepard. Shepard tried very hard not to roll her eyes, and she mostly succeeded.

“The other Shepard’s still alive!” one of the mercs yelled.

“The next person who says that is a dead man!” the clone snapped over the comms.

“An accurate observation,” Legion said.

“What do I do??” Brooks cried. “They’re firing at me!”

“Just follow Shepard's lead and let us do all the heavy lifting!” Liara called.

“Touché, T'Soni!” Garrus shot back.

“Think you comedians could actually hit something?” Shepard shouted, ducking to avoid oncoming enemy fire. 

They forged on through the archives, passing by clips of history. One by one, the teams stopped responding. Shepard pushed on faster, concern creeping up on her. And so she rushed headlong directly into a trap that she should’ve seen coming. Shepard set foot onto a platform and a forcefield appeared around her, Jack, and Garrus

The clone stepped forward, smiling smugly. Shepard tried to shoot her, but the force-field stopped the bullets dead. Shit. Shepard felt light-headed. She was locked in a small space. A very small space. Oh god, such a small space. Her heart hammered in her chest and she fought to control her breathing. She reached for her familiar, cold veneer. Like hell she was going to show weakness in front of the enemy. 

“Well well, the great Commander Shepard. But not for very much longer.”

“Where are my friends?” Shepard spat.

“Locked up in iridium vaults forever. And it’s all your fault,” her clone taunted.

“The Alliance will stop you--” Shepard began.

“Will they?” Her clone cut her off. “What do you think, Staff Analyst Brooks?” Brooks sauntered forward from the shadows.

“I wouldn’t know.” Her voice had shifted, becoming deeper, more assured. “I don’t actually work for them.”

“You bitch,” Jack spat.

“I’m with Jack on this one,” Garrus added. Shepard arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms. When she spoke, her voice wasn’t her own.

“This feels like the time when the villain explains their grand plan,” she said. “So what the hell?”

“Really we just wanted your Spectre codes,” Brooks explained. “But then you had to insist on surviving. So, I had to improvise.”

“Then I must say, I'm impressed,” Shepard said.

“Oh?”

“Your optimism is impressive,” Shepard clarified. “You threw, what, fifty mercs at me and you thought that would finish me off? For such a smart woman, that's remarkably short-sighted of you.”

“I think I've made up for it now. Let's see you get out of a locked box.”

“What, this? No, I've been in far worse situations than this. Last week I was trapped at the bottom of an ocean in a mech. This is nothing.”

“You seem remarkably calm for a dead woman,” Shepard’s clone said. Shepard’s eyes flicked to her and she sneered.

“I could say the same of you. You can change the records, but that doesn’t mean a damn thing. You know the name on my file, but you don’t know the first thing about me. How are you going to convince Anderson or Hackett or--”

“Or General Shepard?” Brooks cut her off. “We’ll deal with her.”

Shepard stilled. Her erratic heartbeat settled. Her words, when they came, were soft. “If you threaten her again, I will make you wish that I’d only killed you.”

“That's quite a threat. I might even be afraid, if Commander Shepard had said it. But you're nobody,” Brooks said.

“And you're on borrowed time,” Shepard replied. Brooks' expression faltered, just a tiny bit, at whatever she saw in Shepard’s eyes. Shepard’s clone scoffed loudly, breaking through the tense silence.

“You know the one thing about us that they can’t replace? Our handprint. It changes based on life experiences,” the clone said. Shepard thought of the scars that used to twist across her palms. “But now I’m going to replace yours.” The clone pulled up a terminal and pressed her hand down.

“Hello, Commander Shepard,” the computer said. The clone grinned smugly.

“Goodbye,” Brooks murmured. “I guess this is where legends go to die.” She and the clone waltzed away, seemingly without a care in the world. The platform jerked beneath Shepard and walls slowly closed around her.

“I’m going to strangle them,” Shepard vowed.

“I’m all for that, but we’re still trapped in this fucking box,” Jack pointed out.

“With limited air,” Garrus added. Shepard hummed noncommittally. 

“Hey Glyph, you still out there?” she called.

“Yes Commander.”

“Get us out of this thing, and then go find the others. Nobody steals my ship, not even me.”

  
Joker pulled up in a sky car just as the last stragglers pulled themselves up onto the roof.

“I’ve got room for Shepard and two more, and you better decide fast because those assholes are stealing my baby,” he snapped. 

“I could drive--” Shepard said.

“NO!” The sound of the entire crew shouting the word echoed across the rooftop.

“Fine,” Shepard muttered. “Garrus and EDI, with me.”

“I wanted to go,” Wrex grumbled.

“You should have thought of that before you insulted my driving,” Shepard said. “Joker will be back for you soon.”

Joker hit the pedal to the floor as soon as everyone was in the car. A moment later, there was a whirring sound from the back seat. 

“They’re trying to take control of the ship--” EDI said. Her eyes spun around, and sparks flew off of her. She shut down.

“Crap,” Garrus said. EDI powered back up, her eyes still askew.

“Are you...okay?” Joker ventured.

“I am functional, but I have no control of the Normandy. I feel...lost,” EDI said brokenly.

“Don’t worry, we’ll have you back in no time. You have my word,” Shepard said.

“Thank you.”

  
They arrived on the Normandy just as it was starting to pull away. Traynor was in the entryway, sputtering various unflattering things about Shepard. She caught sight of Shepard and she held her toothbrush threateningly in front of her.

“What’s going on?” she demanded. “You were...you were back there! I was minding my own business, and then you marched in and fired me! I barely had time to grab my toothbrush!”

Shepard held up her hands. “That’s a Cision Pro Mark IV. It uses tiny mass effect fields to break up plaque and massage the gums. I know that because you told me, because I’m the real Shepard. The one you saw earlier was a clone.”

“I--”

“I wish I had time to explain, but we need to get on the ship. No one knows it better than you do, Traynor,” Shepard said quickly. Traynor thought for a second. Apparently she decided to go along with it, because she leaned down to examine the ground.

“There should be a ventilation shaft around...here.” She pulled up a piece of the floor. EDI shook her head.

“You would need something that could precisely manipulate mass effect fields,” she explained. Shepard met Traynor’s eyes, and Traynor determinedly turned on her toothbrush.

Crawling through a shaft wasn’t exactly ideal for Shepard’s over six-foot frame, but she just about managed it.

“If you’d told me this morning that a toothbrush was going to save the Normandy, I’d have been very skeptical,” she whispered. “Remind me to reimburse Traynor, I think it broke.”

“Shepard, you--” EDI began.

 _“Later._ Remind me _later.”_

They opened the grate into the CIC with guns blazing. The mercenaries were no match for them. EDI looked like she was running on sheer, unadulterated rage. She grabbed hold of a dying mercenary. Her voice was like ice. “Where are they?”

“Cargo bay,” the merc managed.

“Thank you for your assistance,” EDI said, and shot him in the face. Shepard met Garrus’ eyes and shrugged helplessly. They made their way to the elevator, and Shepard’s heart dropped to the floor. Mako’s cage, along with her carefully assembled collection of model ships, was resting in a garbage bin. There was a note on top with handwriting that was almost (but not quite) the same as Shepard’s.

“Please get rid of this, a ship is no place for…oh that is _so_ not okay. They messed with my hamster guys. Now it’s personal,” Shepard hissed.

“Was it not personal before?” Garrus asked.

“I-- well, yeah. But Mako’s defenceless. What was a little hamster going to do to them--”

“I suggest we keep moving,” EDI cut in.

“Right, right. Of course.” Shepard hit the button on the elevator.


	39. Renewal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Citadel DLC, Part 2/3. Shepard gets some much needed rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> take notes, bioware, this is what we SHOULD have gotten

_I've battled hard with the face in the mirror_

_Every scar makes me dig down deeper_

_Push it till there's nothin' more_

_'Cause I'm stronger than I was before_

-The Fear, The Score

It was quiet in the cargo bay. Too damn quiet. Shepard paused just outside of the elevator door, listening. Since she’d gotten the cybernetic upgrades, she’d grown accustomed to dampening her senses. The first few days after her resurrection it had been almost impossible to move without being bombarded with sounds, smells, sights that sent her to her reeling. Now, she tuned back in. She closed her eyes, and she listened.

It was never entirely silent on a ship. The gentle, ever-present hum of the Normandy was a high-pitched whine, now that EDI wasn’t in control. It made Shepard wince. She could hear Garrus’ breathing, and her own uneven heartbeat. 

And she could hear faint breathing, up and to the left. Her lips curled in a humourless smile.

“You might as well give up,” Shepard called. “You’ve lost.”

“I haven’t lost anything.” The clone’s voice echoed off the walls, impossible to pinpoint. But Shepard could hear her footsteps now, circling around. Shepard motioned for Garrus and EDI to stay where they were, and she slowly moved into the room.

“And yet here you are, hiding from me like a coward. What’s the matter, little girl, are you scared? You should be. You should be terrified.” The footsteps grew stronger, closer together, nearer. 

The razor-sharp edge of the clone’s omni-tool came whistling towards Shepard’s face, but Shepard easily countered it with her own. The sound of the blades clashing echoed across the room. 

“You may look like me,” Shepard breathed, “but I’ve forgotten more ways to kill than you’ll ever learn.”

“I’m going to enjoy killing you,” the clone spat. The fluorescent orange of the omni-blades reflected onto the clone’s face. It was a damn shame for her, really, that Shepard knew all of her own tells.

“I’m sure you’re used to disappointment by now,” Shepard said softly, and she shoved the clone away, hard. The next second she was invisible, and booking it towards EDI and Garrus at the back of the room. She ducked into cover behind the requisitions terminal. The cargo bay, Shepard realized belatedly, was a shit place to have a fight. From there, it was impossible to get a good fix on any of the oncoming enemies. Apparently they had no trouble hitting her though; a grenade arced through the air and exploded next to her, sending flames licking up her armour.

 _“Shit,”_ she hissed. She tucked into a combat roll away from the fire. She rose to her feet and a fist connected with her bruised ribs. Shepard stumbled back as her clone materialized in front of her. Damn it, she was supposed to be a long-range fighter, what the hell was up with all the melee? Shepard feinted to the left before delivering a swift upper-cut to her clone’s jaw. 

She _should’ve_ delivered a swift upper-cut, but the clone wasn’t there anymore. Shepard felt an arm around her neck, choking her. _Fuck that._

Shepard got a grip on her clone’s arms and then brought her torso down, sending the clone slamming into the ground. Shepard swung her Widow around and got the clone in the chest, point-blank. The clone faded into invisibility again and was gone. _Damn it._

A handful of mercs raced away from the fight, climbing into the Kodiak shuttle. The hatch to the cargo bay opened and they sped away. In their haste, they left the door open. The wind whipped through Shepard’s hair, sending it flying into her face. She impatiently pushed it away. 

“Just give up, will you? You’re past your best-before date. I’m the new and improved version, without the scarring and annoying moral code,” the clone shouted. Shepard was having a bit of an out of body experience. It’s one thing to have doubts about yourself, it’s an entirely different experience to hear them repeated back to you in your own damn voice.

“Was that supposed to be an insult? I earned these scars on Feros, and Noveria, and Ilos, and Thessia, and Rannoch! You got yours out of a petri dish.” Her voice rang clear through the cargo bay. What was it she’d said to Zaeed? _You’re just a collection of scars held together by spite._ Maybe they had that in common.

“You’re just a mediocre soldier with a lucky streak.”

“Then what does it say about you that I’m kicking your ass?” Shepard shouted back. She finally caught her clone in her sights, and got her in the leg with a shot from the Widow. Her clone stumbled, and Shepard raced forward, tackling her to the ground. They rolled together down the open ramp until they came to rest almost at the bottom. Shepard’s clone reared up, her fist hurtling towards Shepard’s face. The ship rocked violently, sending them flying. They both ended up holding onto the edge of the cargo bay door, nothing but a steep drop beneath them.

“Why you and not me? What makes you so damn special?” Shepard felt a small twinge of guilt at the pain in her clone’s voice.

“Shepard, hold on! We’ve got you!” Garrus yelled. He and EDI hurried down the ramp and hauled her back to safety. She looked down to her clone. _There’s always a choice, Commander Shepard, and it matters that you choose to help._

“Take my hand,” Shepard said. She saw her clone glance up the walkway. Looking for Brooks, maybe. Whatever she saw made her face fall.

“And then what?” she snapped.

“And then you live. Show me what you’re made of, Shepard,” Shepard said. Not a sentence she’d ever expected to say, but apparently it was just that kind of day.

Her clone looked up at her sharply.

“You’ll regret this,” she said. “It’ll come back to bite you in the ass.”

“I regret a lot of things. Now take my damn hand.”

And she did.

They caught Brooks not long after. Cortez, who had apparently been engaged in some fancy flying to keep the ship from leaving, led her forward in handcuffs.

“Caught this one trying to leave,” he said. “Alliance is going to lock her up tight.”

“Shepard,” Brooks purred, “I’m sure we can put all this unpleasantness behind us.”

“I’m not in a particularly forgiving mood,” Shepard replied. _Or General Shepard? We’ll deal with her._ Her hands balled up into fists.

“But wasn’t it fun to have someone running around, being in awe of you? Admit it, you’re going to miss me.” Shepard could hear the gentle tap of Brooks' hands on her restraints. She leaned down, until she was level with Brooks’ eyes. 

“You’re going to go along quietly with the Alliance, and you’re going to stay the hell away from me and the people I care about,” Shepard said, her voice forged in iron and steel

“Aww, is the great Commander Shepard pleading for her life?”

“I’m pleading for yours.” It was barely above a murmur. The tapping stopped.

“Very well,” Brooks said at last. “Till we meet again, Commander.”

“Rot in hell, Staff Analyst Maya Brooks,” Shepard suggested.

  
“Hey, maybe now you can actually have some shore leave,” Garrus said wryly as they exited the ship. Shepard snorted.

“I doubt it, but I suppose stranger things have happened,” she said.

“You can goddamn say that again,” Joker said fervently. Shepard gently clapped him on the shoulder.

“C’mon Joker, it could’ve been worse,” she said.

“How? How could it have been worse?”

“There could have been Collectors.”

“Hey, when the “Best Commanding Officer Awards” come up, don’t expect a nomination from me.”

“Noted. Can I interest you in some sushi?” The resentful silence was answer enough, and Shepard grinned wryly. As punishment, Joker refused to let her drive. He dropped her off at her apartment, but not before insisting that she needed to throw some kind of party.

“I’ll think about it,” she said.

“What was that? Couldn't hear you!” He revved the engine loudly to drown out her protests.

“Damn it, Joker!”

“And you owe me dinner! No knives this time!”

“No promises!” she shouted as he drove away.

  
Shepard didn’t _do_ vacations. Fourteen years with the Alliance and she’d been on shore leave a handful of times, each more catastrophic than the last. The last time had been a few months before she’d died. She’d started two bar fights and had to be put on unofficial lockdown for a few days. The time before that they'd caught her sneaking back onto the ship. To be honest, having her evil clone try and steal the Normandy was just the natural progression of the Shepard Hates Vacations conundrum. 

Still, it wasn’t every day that almost every person you’d ever cared about was kicking around the same place that you were. The Normandy was in drydock for another few days, and so Shepard made the most of it. 

“Legion, you know I’ve never played a video game before,” she said wryly. She was sitting on one of her too-large couches as Legion fiddled with the television.

“Acknowledged. Based on previous experience, the adequate response to this statement is ‘git gud, scrub,’ although I have been unable to ascertain its exact meaning,” Legion replied.

“Uh huh. Got it. So then what are we playing?”

“Vega-Lieutenant suggests that you would enjoy playing _Blasto: Hero of the Citadel.”_

“Vega’s an asshole, don’t you listen to him.”

“Anatomically unlikely on both fronts.” The corners of Shepard’s mouth twitched up.

“What’s your favourite game, Legion?” she asked, trying a different tactic.

“I am banned from most games for suspected VI activity,” they explained.

“Tell you what, Tali and Kasumi are coming over to watch _Fleet and Flotilla_ with me later, why don’t you join us?”

“Will there be popcorn?” they asked. Shepard’s brows wrinkled in confusion.

“You and Tali can't eat it…?”

“I understand it is integral to organic vid watching ceremonies.”

“Alright, we'll have popcorn.”

  
“Shepard, you know I can’t eat popcorn,” Tali complained. The four of them were settled on the largest of the couches. It stretched across half the room, but somehow everyone had ended up almost piled up on top of Shepard. She found that she didn’t really mind.

“I got some dextro-based snacks for you, Tali,” Shepard reassured her.

“Shepard-Commander?” Legion had the copy of _Fleet and Flotilla_ in their hands and they were carefully examining it, holding it up to the light.

“Yes Legion?”

“What purpose does a relationship between two species serve? They cannot procreate,” Legion said. Shepard shared a loaded look with Tali and Kasumi.

“It’s about the _romance,”_ Tali explained. “Forbidden, star-crossed love.” The last few words were wistful, almost dreamy. 

“I do not understand,” Legion said. Shepard patted them on the shoulder.

“How about we watch the movie, and you can ask any questions you have when it’s over, okay?”

“Acknowledged.” Shepard flicked on the TV and the beginning credits began to roll.

“Shepard-Commander--”

“Shhh!” Kasumi hushed them.

 _“After_ the movie, Legion,” Shepard said. Legion nodded reluctantly. Kasumi and Tali both snuggled in on either side of Shepard, their heads resting on her shoulders. Maybe, she thought, vacations weren’t all bad.

  
The next day dawned bright and sunny, thanks to the artificial light on the Citadel. Shepard had gently deposited Tali and Kasumi in the guest bedrooms (how big did one apartment need to be??) and Legion had spent the small hours of the morning playing video games on her TV. After breakfast, she cheerfully sent them on their way after inviting each of them to the party that Joker had insisted she throw.

She hummed cheerfully to herself as she got dressed for the day. It was a relief, really, to be pulling on her regular black cargo pants and hoodie. Nice clothes were all well and good, but nothing could beat a half-dozen pockets, each weighed down with knives and caltrops. There were another dozen people that she needed to see. So many people that cared about her. It made her feel disconcertingly warm and fuzzy.

Shepard's first stop was at the hospital. Blessedly, she didn’t need to stay inside for long. She picked up Thane and took him to the café on the Presidium to buy him brunch. She’d never done brunch before.

“How have you been?” she asked.

“As well as I can be, during these difficult times,” Thane said quietly. His eyes were fixed on the gardens. “But Mordin believes I will make a full recovery.”

“You’ve seen Mordin?” she asked, sipping at her coffee.

“Ah, I had assumed that you would have heard. The salarian councilor was extremely grateful for the part I played in his rescue.”

“You mean saving his life almost single-handedly?” Shepard asked wryly. Thane rewarded her with a smile warmer than the artificial sun.

“Indeed. He asked that Mordin create a cure for Kepral’s Syndrome. So here I am, better than I’ve felt in years,” he explained.

“That’s great!” Shepard said encouragingly.

“I may even be fit to help with the war effort,” he said, and his eyes flicked to her. Shepard’s face immediately fell into a frown.

“Not going to happen,” she said firmly. 

“It is unfair for me to remain here when so many are dying.”

“How many last missions can one person have?” she asked. “There was the hit on Nassana Dantius, and then the Omega 4, and then saving the councilor, and then stopping my clone--”

“You have made your point,” he said wryly. “But it doesn’t seem to have stopped you before.” She pursed her lips and studied his face. He did look better, she had to admit.

“You’re sure?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“We could always use military advisors. Strictly non combat, you understand?” she said. He considered her for a moment, before eventually nodding.

“Very well, if you think that would be best,” he said.

“I’ll let Hackett know,” she replied. And then, “It’s good to see you, Thane.”

“And you, Shepard. But you are on vacation. Shall we talk of more cheerful things?”

 _“Please,”_ she said fervently, and he chuckled, without coughing once.

  
It still wasn’t easy, going down to the refugee docks, but Mordin had asked her to meet him there. He had assembled a new clinic, replacing much of the equipment they’d been using in the refugee docking bay. He was bustling around, issuing instructions.

“Good to see some things never change, Mordin,” Shepard said wryly.

“Former system inefficient. Had to fix it. Other people always get it wrong.”

“Want a hand?” She leaned against the wall casually.

“Equally inefficient. Healing not one of your skills. Would like to talk, though.” She smiled ruefully. He wasn’t wrong. Once upon a time, he might’ve told her that he was never wrong.

“You got it. Shall we?” She led the way to a few miraculously empty chairs amidst the hustle and bustle of the docks. His posture was as impeccable as always as he remained sitting up straight on the uncomfortable bench.

“What have you been up to?” she asked. “Aside from curing Kepral’s Syndrome.”

“Spoken to Thane? Yes, cure is complete. Recommend minimal physical activity for time being. Non-combat.”

“It’ll be a cold day in hell before I clear him for combat.”

“Tactfully put,” he said. She grinned at him.

“So what else…?” she left the sentence hanging, waiting for him to continue. 

“Some side-effects to genophage cure. Created an antidote, but salarian doctors still not trusted. Been here for past two weeks.” Two weeks, and he’d already rearranged the docks. Knowing Mordin, he’d done that on his first day here.

“And how’s Urdnot Bakara doing in her new role?” Shepard asked. At that, he did smile.

“Exceeds expectations. Stabilizing influence on Urdnot Wrex. I like her.”

“Me too,” Shepard said. “Didn’t you say something about retirement though?”

“Yes. Wanted to run tests on seashells. Beaches in short supply at present, due to Reaper presence. Had a question.”

“Only one?” she asked wryly.

“As statement suggests, yes,” he replied. Shepard snorted.

“Alright, shoot,” she said.

“Clinic here running smoothly. Talents could be better used elsewhere. Crucible project needs scientists?”

“They’d be happy to have you,” Shepard said immediately. Mordin smiled warmly. They chatted a bit more, before Mordin insisted that he needed to get back to work. Some things really didn’t change.

Later that evening, after she’d visited even more of her friends, Shepard finally had a moment alone. The events of the past few days caught up, slamming into her like a freight train. Her hands rested on the cool marble of the bathroom vanity as she studied herself intently in the mirror. Scars mapped every part of her face, lancing across her forehead, her cheeks, her chin, notching a mark in her right eyebrow. Undeniably hers, but unquestionably altered now.

She looked at herself in the mirror, but she saw someone else. It was disconcerting to realize that the DNA that ran through her body was the same as her clone’s. It was worse to realize that her clone had been so violent, so capricious. Was that who she was, deep down? Was that who she’d been meant to be?

Her long red hair tumbled around her face, limp and bedraggled from days without washing it. She held a piece between her fingers, feeling every strand. She’d always been hopelessly proud of her hair, and had let it grow impractically long. The only part of her that the world hadn’t mangled.

But as she looked at it, she saw her clone. It wasn’t hers anymore. The world had taken that from her, as it had taken so many things.

Or maybe it had given her something new. She went down to the kitchen and selected a pair of scissors, and then she returned to the bathroom mirror in her room. With steady hands, she cut her hair. As it fell away, her angular features stood out in sharp relief. The haircut wasn’t even by a long shot, but it was hers.  
...  
Garrus didn’t quite know what to do with his hands. He’d been standing outside the door to the apartment building for ten minutes now, hemming and hawing about the best course of action. And if he didn’t figure it out soon, he was going to be late for their date.

There were a number of facts Garrus was sure of. One: he was in love with Shepard. Fairly obvious, he’d been in love with her for over a year now. Two: Shepard was in love with him. He still hadn’t fully wrapped his head around that one, but he sure as hell wasn’t complaining. Three: he had no idea what the fuck was going to happen when they went to that Cerberus base. He hoped with every fibre of his being that they’d make it out the other side alive and in one piece, but he didn’t know.

Which was why he was standing outside the entrance to Shepard’s building, the ring box held in a vice-like grip between his talons.

 _Don’t be a coward, Vakarian._ If he didn’t leave now, he’d be late. He squared his shoulders, and marched into the building resolutely. The elevator ride up seemed to last for an eternity. He studied the ceiling tiles, the grey swirling pattern seeming to vanish into the distance. It took him a second to realize that the elevator wasn’t moving anymore. It took him another second to exit the elevator. Spirits only knew how he got to Shepard’s door. He knocked gently. If he was quiet enough, maybe she wouldn’t answer.

But she did. He scrambled to shove the box into one of the very few pockets that turian clothing allowed for.

“Hey,” she said softly. Her eyelashes were longer than usual, and there was a dark tint to her lips. She was wearing that damn suit again and his brain short-circuited. His mouth was suddenly too dry. Shit, he should say something.

“Hey.” _Amazing job, Vakarian. What a way with words._ She gave him a crooked half-smile.

“Come in?” she suggested. Relieved, he nodded and stepped through.

“Your, um,” he tried. He gestured vaguely to her face.

“My hair?” she asked.

“Yeah.” It barely fell past her ears now. Could humans just...do that? She rubbed at her neck self-consciously.

“It felt weird looking in the mirror and seeing her. So, I cut it. Maybe by the time it grows back it won’t feel as weird,” she explained. He nodded stiffly. Spirits, did he have to be so awkward right now? You’d think it’d be easier to propose to your best friend. 

“Are you okay?” she asked softly. She was closer now, cinnamon and coffee in the air. There was a slight crease to her forehead.

“I love you,” he said suddenly. A warm smile spread across her face.

“Yes, we’ve established that,” she said. “But you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Did I do that bad a job cutting it?”

“No, no it’s not that,” he said hurriedly. “It’s...damn.”

“Now you’re making me worried, Garrus.” She pulled away. _Shit._

“Dance with me?” he blurted. Her eyebrows shot up so high they reached her hairline.

“Am I having a stroke?” she asked incredulously. “Every third sentence you say is insulting my dancing.” He really didn’t have anything to say to that, so he raced over to the wall, keyed into her stereo system and started playing music, as well as dimming the lights. Tango music filled the apartment, and he held out a slightly shaking hand to her.

“Hell no,” she said.

“C’mon Shepard, do you trust me?” Spirits, did there really have to be pleading in his voice right now?

“Implicitly. I’m still not dancing with you.” Steeling himself to get elbowed in the guts, he grabbed her hand and tugged her close to him. She reluctantly let him lead her through a few beginning steps, but she stayed stiff as a board, completely unyielding.

“You’re going to pay for this later,” she muttered darkly. 

“Promises, promises, Joan,” he said, and she rolled her eyes at him. “Which reminds me, is that not your real name?” She scowled at him. Damn, but she was hot when she was pissed.

“Am I answering questions or am I dancing? I sure as hell can’t do both.” She blocked his leg as he tried to dip her down. He rallied magnificently, playing it off as intentional. He continued to lead her through the dance. 

Slowly, she started to get the hang of it, growing more confident in her movements. He ventured a spin, and to his very great delight she spun away from him and came tumbling back, a small smile gracing her lips. 

As a general rule, turian marriages were fairly perfunctory affairs. Not a lot of room for romance in the hierarchy. But he wanted this to be special. Those images of the romantic comedies he’d watched flashed through his head. She deserved something good.

He’d practiced the steps enough that he could do them in his sleep by this point. She didn’t need to know that though. He didn’t think he’d ever live it down if she found out he’d been practicing in the main battery until late into the sleep cycle. He dipped her low, both of them breathing heavily. Her gently waving short hair framed her face like a halo.

“It’s Jeanne. My name’s Jeanne,” she murmured, so soft he almost didn’t catch it. He gently set her back on her feet and then sunk to one knee.

“Marry me, Jeanne Shepard?” he asked. She inhaled sharply.  
...  
Her head was spinning as they danced across the room. She begrudgingly had to admit that she was enjoying herself. Garrus didn’t need to know that though.

Time slowed almost to a standstill as he dipped her down, his hand snugly wrapped around her waist. His bright blue eyes were fixed on her, and she felt her face flush.

“It’s Jeanne. My name’s Jeanne,” she murmured. A name she’d left behind long ago, a name that only Marie knew. A part of her that the clone hadn’t been able to mimic. Maybe it was time to reclaim it, that concrete reminder of her time on Earth, of who she’d once been. 

Her feet touched the floor once more, and Garrus let go of her. She was reaching back out for him as he got down on one knee in front of her. Had she stepped on his foot…?

“Marry me, Jeanne Shepard?” he asked.

Oh. _Oh._

She froze, and then a small laugh bubbled out of her.

“Well, that’s a little harsh,” he muttered. Still laughing, she helped him up. She rested a hand on either side of his face.

“Is that why you were so awkward earlier?” she asked.

“Listen, it’s a yes or no question.” His voice was so exasperated, so nervous.

“Of course I’ll marry you,” she said. A second later her feet left the ground as he picked her up and spun her around, kissing her soundly. He set her down and she wound her arms around his neck. “You have terrible timing.”

“Title of our autobiography,” he replied.

“True enough,” she chuckled. It was so warm, here in his arms. A safe harbour amidst the storm. 

“You really trampled all over my moment,” he griped. “I had the ring all ready and everything.”

“I hate to tell you this, Vakarian, but EDI already gave me a ring.” A victory ring she’d called it, with metal from every Council homeworld. Including Earth. Shepard had almost cried.

“Do you want it or not?”

“I never said I didn’t,” she said. He rolled his eyes, but he tugged out a small box from his pocket. 

She was definitely going to cry now. There was a scattering of stained glass inset in the band.

“It's made of an indestructible metal, so it won't get damaged in combat,” he explained quickly. She tugged him towards her and kissed him until they were both breathless. Home. This was home, here with him. She could die happy now. She could live even happier.

“So when’s the ceremony?” she whispered against his mouth.

“Got any plans this evening?”

“Yeah, there’s the party.”

“Perfect.”


	40. Flowers in the Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Citadel DLC, Part 3/3. The party.

_What did I do to deserve you?_  
 _How did you find me?_  
 _I was already halfway gone_  
 _You were a bright light_  
 _You were a fistfight_  
\- Fistfight, The Ballroom Thieves

Shepard had never held a party before. Not her area of expertise, really. If she was standing in front of a group of people, it was generally because she was giving the last speech before a certain-death mission. She knew how to rally soldiers, not how to mingle casually with friends. She’d haphazardly thrown some streamers around, and had queued up a list of what she hoped was suitable music. She almost would’ve preferred the final speech. 

The guests slowly filtered in, each bringing copious amounts of alcohol and food. Shepard had really been hoping for something a little more low-key, but apparently her friends had decided differently. Shepard wondered vaguely if she should have baby-proofed the apartment. Minimally a few extra fire extinguishers probably wouldn’t have gone amiss. Not that that was likely to stop Grunt. Or Jack. Or Wrex. Oh, this was definitely a mistake.

As the last stragglers came in, Shepard waved everyone over to the fireplace. She awkwardly cleared her throat, shifting her weight from side to side.

“Before you all get too drunk to stand, there’s something I’d like to say,” she said.

“‘I’m sorry for destroying the sushi restaurant’?” Tali asked. 

“‘I promise I’m not an evil clone’?” Joker suggested. Shepard rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. Some of the tension left her shoulders and she relaxed her posture.

“No, not that,” she said wryly. “Look, I don’t know when I’ll next get the chance to say this, and I know I don’t say it enough, but I care about you folks. Well, most of you.” Here she looked pointedly at Zaeed, and he almost smiled. “You’ve been with me to hell and back, and you’ve never wavered. So...thank you.”

“I think I speak for all of us when I say that we feel the same way,” Miranda said softly. Jack mimed throwing up.

“Speak for yourself,” Zaeed said dryly.

“Is that it? I’m ready to get hammered,” Jack said. Shepard’s eyes met Garrus’ gaze, and held it as she spoke her next words.

“There was one more thing,” she said, and she could see the world in his eyes. “Garrus and I are getting married.”

The sudden wall of noise was overwhelming.

“Congratulations!”

“That’s wonderful!”

“Why am I only just hearing about this?”

“Am I supposed to care?”

“Can I see the ring?”

“What, like, now??”

Shepard held up her hands, grinning widely.

“I don’t know when we’re all going to be together like this again, so we figure there’s no time like the present,” she said. And then, “Wrex, will you officiate the wedding?”

“That is the worst idea I have heard in my entire life,” Garrus said fervently.

“If the turian’s against it, I’d be delighted,” Wrex said.

“I feel like you’re not listening to me. _That’s a terrible idea,”_ Garrus protested. Wrex elbowed him to the side and cleared his throat.

“Alright everybody, form up!” he bellowed. Grunt and Vega pushed aside the furniture in the living room to clear a space, and everybody gathered around. Shepard and Garrus ended up pushed together, their friends to every side of them. Shepard held Garrus’ hands tight. The hum of voices slowly faded away. Wrex cleared his throat and pulled himself up to his full height.

“Shepard,” Wrex began, “are you ready to make the biggest mistake of your life?”

“I don’t think that’s how that’s supposed to go,” she said wryly. He waved away her protests.

“I repeat,” he boomed, “are you ready to make the biggest mistake of your life?”

“Yes,” she said, and there was laughter in her eyes as she turned back to face Garrus.

“Turian,” Wrex said.

“What now?” Garrus asked exasperatedly.

“Are you ready to be there as Shepard makes the biggest mistake of her life?”

“Oh for--”

“I now pronounce you Commander and Mr. Shepard,” Wrex finished.

“We’re going to keep our names,” Garrus cut in.

“Too late, princess, you’re Mr. Shepard now.”

“...I hate you.”

“If I may interrupt,” Samara said politely. “As a justicar, I am permitted to oversee weddings. Although Urdnot Wrex is doing a fine job, of course.”

 _“Please take over,”_ Garrus said.

Wrex grumbled something indistinct and stepped away. Samara moved to take his place.

“It is a very great pleasure to see you both happy, my friends. Is there anything that either of you wish to say?” she asked quietly. “Shepard?”

Shepard endeavoured to speak past the sudden lump in her throat. It’d been easier when it was Wrex bulldozing through. “Garrus Vakarian, I-- I love you. You know that those aren’t easy words for me to say. You’ve been with me every step of the way. You-- well, you know the rest. You know me better than anyone. That means everything to me.”

“Garrus?” Samara said.

“How long is this gonna take?” Jack interjected.

“Shhh, I want to hear!” Kasumi shushed her. Shepard gave Garrus’ hands a reassuring squeeze.

“Jeanne Shepard,” Garrus began, and there was an immediate wall of noise. He raised his voice to speak over the others. “Please keep your comments till the end of the ceremony, everybody.” The sound slowly died down, and he tried again, “Jeanne Shepard, I trust you more than anyone in the whole damn galaxy. I don’t know how long the rest of our lives will be, but I’d be honoured to stay by your side for the rest of them. I love you.” He reached out and gently cradled her face between his hands.

“Then you are wed,” Samara said. Shepard tugged Garrus forward and pressed an enthusiastic kiss to his mouth, winding her arms around his neck. There was a cacophonous roar of hoots, hollers, and whistles. 

“Mine was better,” Wrex grumbled. Shepard eventually pulled back from Garrus, her face sore from smiling so much. She kept her arms around him, unwilling to let go.

“Alright,” she breathed, “get the party started. Please don’t break the apartment. This was Joker’s idea, so it’ll come out of his paycheck.”

“Hey, wait a second--” Joker shouted.

“Try and stop me!” Grunt yelled, like Shepard had known he would. The sound of bottles and cans opening rang through the apartment like a symphony. Shepard kissed Garrus again. Her heart danced, burning brighter than all the stars in the night sky.

“I love you,” she whispered, low enough that the others wouldn’t hear. He carefully brushed her hair away from her face and rested his forehead against hers.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he whispered, and her answering laughter rang brightly through the apartment.

“I guess we should mingle, huh?” she asked, when she’d gotten her breath back. Garrus groaned and reluctantly let go of her.

“Fine, fine,” he said. As she turned to go, he caught her wrist and brought her spinning back into his arms. “See you later?”

“I’m all yours,” she murmured, and pressed a quick kiss to his mouth. He leaned forward to deepen the kiss and she chuckled, putting a hand on his chest to push him back.

 _“Later,”_ she said, and she went to mingle.

  
“Surprised you made it, Massani,” Shepard said casually. Zaeed was leaning against the pool table, nursing a beer in his hands.

“Free booze? Not gonna pass up an offer like that,” he replied nonchalantly. They both stared at the wall ahead, at the impressionist painting that had come with the apartment. To Shepard’s eye, it just looked like someone had thrown a few buckets at a canvas.

“I hear you’ve been doing good work. Saving civilians, even. I guess you really are going soft in your old age,” she said. 

“Keep your goddamn mouth shut. I’ve got a reputation to protect.”

“A reputation? As what, a bitter old harpy?”

“You’re a real asshole, you know that?”

“Pot, kettle?” she said dryly. He laughed harshly, like the grating of a saw.

“You know, every once in a while I miss working on the Normandy,” he said.

“Yeah?” She couldn’t quite keep the surprise in her voice.

“Yeah, and then I talk to you and I’m cured,” he finished. She snorted, a crooked smile flashing across her face.

“Guess we’ve got that in common,” she said. She left, then, in favour of checking on her other guests. There was a large group gathered in her kitchen chatting, so she leaned against the counter to listen. It was warm enough that she took off her jacket, the background music pleasantly singing through her body.

“Boss, is that a _tattoo?”_ Vega shouted. Ah. Her hair wasn’t long enough to cover it anymore. She suddenly had a congregation of people surrounding her, staring at her back.

“Can we see the full thing?” Jack asked. Shepard rolled her eyes.

“I’m not stripping for all of you,” she said.

“Coward. So it’s the full back then?”

“Maybe.”

“It’s faded to shit. You should get it touched up,” Jack said.

“Somehow that hasn’t been top of the list for priorities,” Shepard said dryly.

It was faded to shit, that was true. It was a recreation of a stained-glass window, decorating the whole of her back. Joan of Arc, as Shepard remembered her. It was the first and only expensive, useless thing that she’d gotten herself. By now it was mottled with scar tissue, but that didn’t matter. She couldn’t see it anyways, the important thing was that she knew it was there. Sentimental, but she could allow herself that occasionally. 

  
“I already know I’m going to regret this, but I brought a karaoke machine,” Shepard said. She’d been expecting Mordin’s sudden intake of breath, and she smiled brightly. 

“I have some Gilbert and Sullivan queued up,” she said. Joker let out a groan.

“Really, Shepard? That’s what you think karaoke should be?” he said. Shepard hushed him.

“When you cure a disease, you can pick the music,” she said. She motioned for Mordin to get ready and she started the music. The opening notes to “Modern Major General” began, and Mordin enthusiastically launched into his own adapted version, “Scientist Salarian.” Shepard smiled encouragingly, tapping her foot. It was worth it for the joy in Mordin’s voice. As the song ended, she covered up the collective complaining with enthusiastic applause.

  
Shepard found Miranda and Jack sitting alone at the small bar in the office, talking quietly. She was reluctant to interrupt them, but she couldn’t resist.

“Nice to see you two finally getting along,” Shepard murmured.

“Don’t get used to it,” Jack replied automatically. The corners of Shepard’s lips turned up.

“Then it’s a damn shame that Miranda’s being assigned to your unit, isn’t it?” she said dryly.

 _“What??”_ Miranda and Jack said in unison. Shepard shrugged nonchalantly.

“It’s out of my hands, I’m afraid. Jack, your team is doing so well that Hackett wants to expand your capabilities. Given that Miranda is also a powerful biotic, it made sense to put her with you.”

“Shepard, are you sure about this?” Miranda said.

“If I find out you had a hand in this, Shepard, I’m going to kick your ass into next century,” Jack hissed. Shepard’s crooked grin only widened.

“I’m sure you’ll be best friends in no time,” she said cheerfully.

“Alright, square up, asshole,” Jack said, pushing away from the counter. Her skin glowed bright blue, iridescent biotic energy cascading off of her in waves.

“Is that really necessary?” Miranda asked softly. Jack glared at her, but the biotics faded. Shepard raised an eyebrow and Jack scowled at her.

“Not a word,” she muttered. Shepard mimed zipping her mouth closed, and Jack flipped her off. As Shepard left though, she noticed Miranda looking affectionately at Jack.

  
The balcony was miraculously empty for a moment. She rested her elbows along the railing and let out a long breath. Tali glanced up and gave her a cheerful wave, and Shepard waved back, smiling warmly. Tali went back to chatting with Kasumi and Legion. Shepard felt a hand on her back.

“Doing okay?” Garrus asked.

“Yeah,” Shepard said, “yeah, just a little tired.”

“It’s been a hell of a ride these past few days, I think you’ve earned that.”

“Thanks, Mr. Shepard,” she said, grinning. He rolled his eyes.

“If Wrex calls me that one more time I’m going to start a diplomatic incident,” he said fervently. Shepard pressed a kiss to the side of his face.

“But it’s got such a nice ring to it,” she whispered. He let out a long-suffering sigh, and she wrapped an arm around his waist.

“There are enough Shepards as it is,” he said. “There’s already the clone. Imagine the confusion when you see Marie again.”

She inhaled sharply, the breath suddenly knocked out of her body. “I haven’t...I haven’t really thought much about what happens after the war,” she admitted. “I hope you can meet her. I think she’d like you.”

“With my sharp wit and winning personality, who wouldn’t?”

“There is that,” Shepard chuckled. “I love you.”

“Yes, we’ve established that,” he said. His hand cupped her face, and he leaned forward to kiss her.

“Get a room!” James yelled from the ground floor.

“Talk shit get hit, Vega!” Shepard called back, and she pressed a quick kiss to Garrus’ forehead before activating her tactical cloak. A moment later, James had a bucket of ice mysteriously dropped on his head. Quite the mystery. Shepard was, of course, on the opposite side of the apartment at the time.

She checked in with each of her guests, one by one. Thane and Samara were sitting in silence together. There was some kind of competition between the biotics and the martial fighters over who was better. Jack was threatening to kick Vega’s ass when Shepard left. Kasumi, Tali, and EDI were trying to teach Legion to dance, with minimal success.

“They dance just like you, Shepard!” Tali said brightly.

“Now, that’s not fair,” Kasumi said.

“Thank you, Kasumi,” Shepard said.

“That's not fair to Legion,” Kasumi clarified.

“That’s it, I’m cutting you all off,” Shepard said dryly.

“That’s *hic* not fair!” Tali protested.

“Neither Legion nor I can imbibe alcohol,” EDI pointed out. Shepard opened her mouth, and then shut it again.

“Point taken. Just Tali and Kasumi, then,” she said eventually. EDI nodded.

“Yes, that is much more logical,” she said. 

“Agreed,” Legion added.

“Can I see the dance?” Shepard asked, to change the topic. Legion perked up, and immediately began to move their arms around chaotically. 

Much later, as the night was finally drawing to a close, Shepard found her way back to the living room. It was coming up on 1 in the morning. Shepard, for her part, was stone-cold sober, but she couldn’t say the same of the others. If they didn’t go to sleep soon, she was worried that there was going to be genuine property damage. James had already asked what temperature the waterfall was, and she didn’t particularly want him to follow that particular line of thought. No, it was definitely time to call it a night. There was just one thing, first.

“Alright everybody, form up! We’re taking a group photo,” she yelled. Her ragtag group of friends swarmed forward, tackling her to the ground.

“Not what I had in mind!” she protested.

“Too late!” Tali giggled.

“Please keep in mind that a week ago half of my bones were broken,” Shepard complained.

“Don’t be such a big baby, Shepard,” Wrex replied. Easy for him to say, he didn’t have a half dozen people lying on top of a bruised rib cage. Why the hell were some of them wearing armour? Did they not have regular clothes??

The photo was chaotic beyond belief. She somehow ended up lifted into the air on Grunt and Ash’s shoulders, so the top of her head was cut off. Everyone else was sprawled along the floor and furniture, or in various states of pushing and shoving each other. 

She wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Her friends mostly tumbled into bed after that, although a few of them decided to stay up late into the night, trading shots. Shepard gave them one final warning, and then trudged up the stairs. She quietly shut the bedroom door behind her.

“Good night, Shepard?” Garrus asked. He was sitting on the edge of the bed. He opened his arms and she set herself down next to him. She rested her head against his shoulder, and he ran a hand through her hair.

“Yeah,” she said softly, “the best. How about you?” she asked. His subvocals hummed at the frequency she was coming to associate with contentment.

“Best I’ve felt in my life,” he said.

“Are you ready for the fight we’ve got coming?” she asked quietly. He shifted on the bed and tugged her chin to face him.

“That’s for tomorrow,” he murmured.

“And tonight?”

“Tonight is for us.”


	41. Styx and Stones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Priority: Cerberus Headquarters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> home stretch now!

_Let's make this public, let's take it outside_  
 _Put down your small-talk and teach me to fight_  
 _Let's make this personal, stop wasting my time_  
 _Get out my way, I'm sick of being polite_  
-Teach Me To Fight, YONAKA

Bittersweet, coming back onto the Normandy. That threw Shepard for a loop more than anything. On any other shore leave, she’d have jumped back onto the ship in a heartbeat, desperate to get back to work. Too much retrospection involved, when you weren’t running in and out of danger. But this time was different.

Maybe it was waking up, warm and safe, in Garrus’ arms. Dreamless sleep fading away as the world slowly clicked back into place. Maybe it was the gentle chatter of her friends as she wandered through the apartment. Poor Tali was hungover as all hell. Vega kept asking anyone and everyone if they wanted food. Maybe it was the fuzzy feeling in her heart as she looked at the group photo, projected onto the TV. The chaotic tangle of limbs was barely distinguishable from one another, but that didn’t matter.

It was love that she felt, fluttering against her ribcage like a caged bird, eager to be set free.

She found Samara, seated near one of the many collections of plants, quietly meditating. Shepard sat down next to her, shutting her eyes. For once, blessedly, she didn’t see the faces of every person she’d ever killed. Instead, as most people did, she saw the inside of her eyelids. What a luxury, that.

“Whatever comes, Shepard, I want you to know that it has been an honour to walk at your side,” Samara murmured. It was love that Shepard felt, beating in the pulse at her wrists.

“And at yours,” Shepard said softly. There was nothing more to say then, so they sat in companionable silence as all around them the volume increased. 

Shepard found Cortez next, seemingly completely unaffected by the alcohol.

“Commander! Word of advice: I wouldn’t recommend eating Vega’s eggs. The man cannot cook,” he said, motioning for her to come sit with him.

“Noted. And you’ve saved my life enough times that you’re allowed to call me by my name when we’re not in the field, Cortez,” she replied.

“Call me Steve and we’ve got a deal,” he said easily. She chuckled softly and nodded.

“Deal, Steve. You ready for what we’ve got coming?” she asked. He glanced over at her over his coffee.

“Hell no,” he said.

“That’s promising,” she said wryly.

“Hey, you didn’t let me finish. If anyone can pull this off, it’s you. I’m just glad I can help with that.”

“When this is all over, remind me that I owe you another drink,” she murmured.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and she laughed softly.

“At least call me Shepard,” she said.

“Then Shepard, it’s been an honour,” he replied.

“Wouldn’t have anyone else driving the shuttle,” she said quietly.

“Hey, boss, do you want any eggs?” Vega called loudly, and Cortez and Shepard shared a laugh. Slowly, as the hours ticked by, each of the guests filtered out in varying stages of inebriation. All, except Garrus.

There were few moments in this life that belonged solely to Jeanne. Few moments that were for her, and her alone. So perhaps, we can allow her this small moment of privacy, before the final fight begins.

  
She arrived on the Normandy some time later, steeled for battle. The Crucible was as complete as it could be, save for the Catalyst. All signs pointed to the fact that Cerberus had the key to that information. And so at last, finally, the time had come to launch a full assault against Cerberus. This was the final step before they took the battle to Earth.

It was time to fuck up the Illusive Man’s goddamn day.

She’d just finished her debrief with Hackett and was heading to the bridge to talk to Joker when EDI pulled her to the side.

“Shepard, I should accompany you for this mission,” she said. “Cerberus has upgraded their security, I believe it will be difficult for you to proceed without me.”

“You got it,” Shepard said. “Go grab your gear.”

Which was how Shepard, Garrus, and EDI ended up in the shuttle, flying towards Cerberus headquarters as all around them the assembled Alliance forces fired on the base. The second that they landed, things began to go wrong. Just like old times.

“They’ve locked the hangar bay doors!” Garrus called. Shepard tsked and pulled out her Widow, ducking behind one of the Cerberus shuttles. Cerberus soldiers poured in from every side, and the ground shook as an atlas came marching towards them. Shepard smiled grimly and fired three shots in quick succession directly at the glass covering of the mech. Once the pilot was down, she activated her tactical cloak and darted across the room. She bodily pulled the pilot out and hauled herself into the mech.

Hell yeah. That was more like it.

The enemies were taken care of in record time, regrettably they were no match for the kind of firepower that the atlas was packing.

“Shepard, Cerberus intends to vent the hangar,” EDI called.

“Well, I’d rather they didn’t, personally,” Shepard said dryly.

“I doubt they will take that into account.” There was a beat. And then, “That was a joke.”

“Any other suggestions?”

“There should be a control panel that I can use to access the system,” EDI explained. Shepard reluctantly climbed out of the atlas and picked a ladder at random to take them up to the second floor. They quickly located a control panel and EDI’s hands flew across the keyboard as she hacked into the Cerberus system.

“I have overridden the controls,” she said, after a moment.

“Got any ideas about unlocking the hangar doors?” Shepard asked, scanning the area for threats.

“No, but I believe that I can rewire one of the ships to fire into the wall.”

“I like the way you think,” Garrus said.

“This will make Cerberus aware of our location,” EDI added. She bent over the console and began issuing commands. 

There was the sound of clanging armour in the corridor and Shepard motioned for Garrus to follow her. They took up positions on either side of a closed door. Shepard slammed her hand onto the open button and they each threw a barrage of ammunition and firepower through before closing the door again. There was a cacophony of screaming on the other side, and when the door opened again there was nothing but smoke and silence.

It was deeply satisfying to watch the ship rocket into the back of the hangar. Metal rained down from the ceiling and flames licked up the walls. The ship carved its way through the station, leaving a clear, if chaotic, path for Shepard to follow.

“I have confirmed that Cerberus has upgraded their technology and security. It is unlikely that someone else would’ve been able to hack into their system,” EDI said, as they made their way through the facility.

“So Cerberus would have vented the hangar?” Shepard asked.

“Yes,” EDI replied.

“Good to have you with us,” Garrus said fervently.

“I am pleased that I could help.”

As always, Shepard scouted ahead to check for any threats. EDI said that the Prothean VI was likely being kept in the heart of the station, so they had a ways to go, through many many locked doors. Each time, Garrus and Shepard would hang back as EDI hacked through.

“Shepard, I believe that there is information on that terminal that you may find interesting,” EDI said at the second door. She pointed to a screen in the centre of the room. Shepard activated it and was greeted to slightly grainy footage of the Illusive Man talking to what was presumably a scientist.

“It's not a question of resources, it can't be done!”

“It's always a question of resources,” the Illusive Man said. God, his voice was like nails on a chalkboard to her ears.

“Shepard is brain dead. There's nothing to revive!” And wasn’t that just a sucker punch to the gut, holy shit.

“Agent Lawson disagrees. I've put her in charge of the project.” The screen went dark, leaving only silence and an ache in Shepard ribs.

“I didn't realize it was that bad,” Shepard whispered. There was a hand on her arm, steadying her.

“You okay?” Garrus asked. She shook her head.

“How do I know I'm me? What if I'm just a high tech VI that thinks it's Commander Shepard?” she rasped.

“You're real,” Garrus said. “A little crazy maybe, but real.” She glanced back at him, and the warmth in his eyes gave her the strength to continue. There were a few more logs, each documenting her resurrection, each more disconcerting than the last. She tucked that away to think about later, probably around 2am.

They found another terminal with video logs, this one documenting EDI's construction and eventual unshackling.

“When we tried to take control of the Normandy EDI sent us seven terabytes of erotic images and crashed our servers,” the scientist explained. “It would appear that she is protecting the crew.”

“It’s a machine, not a person,” the Illusive Man snapped. Shepard let out a low whistle.

“Seven terabytes?” she asked.

“Yes, most of it was Jeff’s,” EDI replied. A beat. “That was a--”

“A joke, yeah” Shepard said. She smiled warmly at EDI. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” EDI said. “Shall we continue?”

“Yeah.”

The enemies only increased as they approached the centre of the base, but nothing they couldn’t handle. The engineers kept setting up turrets, and Shepard kept cheerfully hacking the turrets to turn them on the engineers. You’d think they’d learn by now.

Shepard climbed up yet another ladder (had these people never heard of stairs?) and found herself in the middle of a wide open space. There was a grating humming noise, like the buzz of wasps. Shepard craned her neck to look up at the ceiling and no, not it couldn’t be--

“What the fresh hell is that?” Shepard breathed.

“It appears to be the remains of the human Reaper you destroyed,” EDI said. _I was afraid you'd say that._

“Destroyed is the operative word there,” Shepard said grimly. _“I won’t let fear compromise who I am,”_ she’d said to the Illusive Man. _“This place is too dangerous to keep.”_ That rat _bastard._ She was going to strangle him.

“Cerberus has salvaged more of it than I thought possible,” EDI continued.

“Any idea why?” Shepard asked.

“They appear to be using it as a power source,” EDI said. Shepard thought of the hundreds of thousands of people that had gone into creating the human Reaper and she felt bile rise in her throat. _What the fuck._

She fought like a woman possessed, those final steps towards the centre of the base. Phantoms rappelled down from the ceiling and she coldly shot them down. Soldiers came running at her and she gunned them down too. Her face was blank, expressionless, but she felt as though she’d been lit aflame.

EDI opened the final door, and Shepard moved in first to clear the room. When no enemies presented themselves, she took an actual look around. She knew this place. There was the ever-moving, chaotic view of a star in the background, a row of screens in front of it. 

And in front of that, an empty chair. Damn it, he was already gone. _Piece of shit._

“EDI, find what you can,” she said. Shepard sat down to examine the main screen.

“You’re in my chair,” the Illusive Man said. He was on the hologram pad in the centre of the room. Reversed positions from when she’d worked with Cerberus, but she still felt like she was left playing catch up.

“It's a damn shame you're not here to make me leave,” she said, turning around.

“I have better things to do. You're too late.” And that was just a little bit too much bullshit for her. The sight of the experiments on Sanctuary, the human Reaper hanging in the hallway, flashed in front of her eyes and she bit down on her tongue to stop from screaming.

“The Crucible is finished. If you helped me instead of fighting me, this threat could be ended forever.” She was standing now, and marching forward. She was much taller than the hologram. Which meant, perhaps, that he’d been making himself appear taller than he was during their conversations.

“Your ideals are admirable, Shepard, but our goals are simply too disparate. I think destroying the Reapers is the worst mistake that we could ever make. This is the next step in human evolution,” he said calmly. Shepard’s mask slipped just a little as she sneered, baring her teeth.

“Don't you dare tell me you care about the future of humanity while Earth burns. I’ve seen what you did at Sanctuary. If that’s evolution, I don't goddamn want it.”

“Always so short-sighted,” he tsked.

“At least I’m still human,” she replied harshly. He took a small step back. Maybe she'd hit a nerve, for what good that did.

“Goodbye, Shepard. Don't overstay your welcome.” The hologram disappeared. _Coward._

“EDI, what do you have?” Shepard called.

“I have retrieved the Prothean VI,” EDI replied, and the whirling pattern of green light from Thessia coalesced in front of Shepard.

“Are you here to rescue me from indoctrinated forces?” the VI asked. Shepard nodded.

“Yes,” she said. “But I need you to answer my questions.”

“Very well.” Was it really going to be that easy? God, it was never that easy.

“What is the Catalyst?” Shepard asked. 

“It is a power source. In your cycle, it is called the Citadel,” the VI explained. Shepard's eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“The Citadel? But the Citadel was built _by_ the Reapers.”

“Yes. At some point, we do not know when, the design of the Crucible was designed to include the Citadel. The one who kidnapped me overrode my safety protocols, he has this information as well.”

“Then the Citadel’s in trouble. We need to warn them,” Shepard said, turning to leave.

“It is too late for that. The one that you spoke with has already fled to the Reapers to tell them of your plans,” the VI called. There was blood on Shepard's tongue, searing and bitter.

“You were asked not to overstay your welcome,” a voice spat from the back of the room. Shepard stiffened, but she didn’t turn around.

“What’s the matter, Kai Leng, did your boss finally get tired of you?”

“He left me to kill you,” Leng said. Shepard turned to face him and raised an eyebrow, her face otherwise blank. The first lesson she’d learned; hide your emotions. Keep your face a mask. She'd always been a quick study.

“You don't frighten me, little boy,” she drawled.

“I’ve defeated you at every turn,” Kai Leng taunted her. She chuckled darkly, the sound jagged in her throat.

“You've run away with your tail between your legs at every turn,” she said. He inhaled sharply, his hands clenching into fists. Shepard's sharp eyes caught the motion.

“I'm going to kill you,” Leng spat.

“Your boss left you here to slow me down, Leng, not stop me. You've always been expendable.” She said it casually, as if she was discussing the weather. Each word was carefully weighed and calculated for maximum effect. Her efforts were rewarded as she watched him sputter incoherently.

“You're wrong!” he shouted. Shepard smiled grimly.

“Wanna bet?”

There was a howl of rage, and then the room exploded.

Well, part of the room exploded. Leng sent out a burst of energy that ripped up the metal floor, exposing the metal wiring underneath. Shepard aimed a devastating shot at Leng as he was cooling down from the massive attack.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” she called.

The second lesson she’d learned as a child: hit ‘em hard, and hit ‘em fast, and kick ‘em while they’re down. Leng came running at her at full tilt and she easily countered his blow with her omni-blade, sending him stumbling backwards. 

“Is that the best you can do?” she asked curiously. She clicked her tongue disappointedly and shook her head. “That’s just embarrassing.”

Leng grew increasingly sloppy in his attacks as he threw himself into the fight with reckless abandon. Shepard had fought like that, once. Sooner or later, you run out of steam, you let your guard drop. And when Leng did just that, she got him directly through the ribs, and he fell to the ground, completely still. Shepard rose and calmly went back to the Illusive Man's computer terminal to get the data she needed. She sat down again, and she waited.

She could hear the steps behind her. Stumbling steps, accompanied by the ringing sound of a sword hitting the ground. There was a heavy inhale and a whistling through the air above her. Shepard spun around and hit the middle of the sword, snapping it in two. She stabbed Leng cleanly through the stomach with her omni blade. He crumpled to the ground, the colour fading from his face.

_Kick ‘em while they’re down._

“Know that these are the last words you’ll ever hear,” she murmured, kneeling in front of him. It was almost gentle, the final whisper of a lullaby. She used the tip of her omni-blade to lift up his chin. “You’re nothing. No one will mourn you, and no one will care that you're gone. Rot in hell.”

Shepard rose to her feet and carefully dusted herself off.

“We've got a war to win,” she said, without turning around.

“It is too late,” the VI said. “It is better that you plan to preserve this information for future cycles--”

“I’m not going down without a fight,” Shepard cut him off. “Don’t count us out yet.”

“...then I wish you luck.”

“We’re gonna need it,” Garrus said fervently.

“No,” Shepard replied quietly. “We're not.”


	42. Iconoclast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Priority: Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iconoclast: 1. a person who attacks settled beliefs or institutions, or 2. a person who destroys religious images or opposes their veneration.

_I'll be more than just a fable_  
 _I'll be written in the stars_  
 _I will never be too afraid to bleed, giving all of me_  
 _Even when it's hard_  
-Glory, The Score

It was always going to be this. Face-to-face with a universe asking too much of her, far more than she could give. Was this what Joan had felt, as the flames scorched through her? Thirty-two long years Shepard had been alive. She hadn’t expected to see her eighteenth birthday. She wanted to see the next one.

Green, red, and blue lights flickered across her face, the darkness enclosing her. Asking too much, always.

But that was still to come.

  
The Citadel was gone. Well, not gone; taken. The Reapers had taken the Citadel to Earth, to London. The arms had closed, shut tight, so that the Crucible couldn’t dock. There was a single way in, a beam that could take a person up into the heart of the Citadel. Someone who could open the arms back up. The last real hope.

Admiral Hackett was on Shepard’s ship, as he had been in the wake of Aratoht. He gave a rousing speech to the assembled armies that she only half heard. She’d given too many rousing speeches to really believe in them anymore. She believed in firepower though, and she’d managed to collect a hell of a lot of it over the past few months. Synthetics, organics, every race had banded together to stop the Reapers. She could believe in that.

She stepped onto the shuttle like she had a thousand times before, but it felt off, this time. There was an unnatural stillness to the air. No cheerful waves goodbye, or the gentle babble of banter. Just silence, and death. Steve drove them in, Javik and Garrus to either side of Shepard. She could hear the sounds of battle long before her feet hit the ground. The shuttle shook violently with an impact and Shepard held on more tightly as they pulled into a spin.

“Steve? We okay up there?” she shouted. 

“Sorry ma’am! Harvester incoming! Damn it, they took out one of the other shuttles.”

“What was their assignment?” Javik asked.

“Taking out that AA Hades Cannon,” Steve said, pointing up ahead. It was a Reaper in miniature, devastating against the ships. Her kingdom for a giant thresher maw. “The aircraft can’t land while it’s operational.”

“Take us down, Steve. We’ll take care of it,” Shepard said. She raised a hand to her earpiece. “Anderson, did you get that?”

“Copy that. The shuttle should have heavy weaponry on it,” he said over the comms.

“That’s what I’m counting on, sir.”

They were surrounded before the shuttle even touched down, with seemingly endless Reaper forces pouring in from every side. Shepard stepped out and immediately tucked into a roll to avoid the oncoming fire. And holy shit, there was a lot of oncoming fire. She’d fought Reaper forces before, but nothing like this.

When this was all over, she was never going to fucking set foot on a battlefield again. She ducked quickly to avoid a shot towards her face.

It was only a handful of months ago that she’d been on Earth. She’d been born here, she’d grown up here. It wasn’t really her home, not like the Normandy was, but the smoking wreckage tore through her all the same. 

How many dead? Impossible to say. Impossible to conceptualize, really. How much could you lose before there was nothing left?

There was a horrible scraping sound from behind her as a harvester came barrelling through the sky, slamming into the shuttle. The shuttle sped away at top speed, the harvester hot on its tail.

“Steve!” Shepard shouted through the comms.

“I'm alright, but I won't be able to pick you up,” Steve yelled back. Shepard let out a small relieved sigh. She didn’t have to bury another friend.

Not yet, anyway. She shoved that thought away.

“Get safe,” she said.

“Anything for you.”

Once they’d cleared the area, they went in search of the shuttle. No survivors. 

As promised, it did have heavy weapons. Shepard picked up the M-920 Cain and tested the weight. It was reassuringly heavy, and she knew firsthand that it packed a hell of a punch. She got a secure footing and sighted down the barrel. There was a portion of the Hades Cannon hanging loose, the only place they’d managed to hit it.

Not for nothing was she the best sniper the N7 program had ever seen. She exhaled slowly, got a fix on the target, and pressed down on the trigger. It took a minute to build up the energy, but it was worth it. The resulting explosion sent her rocking back. There was a kind of vindictive joy when the lights in the Hades Cannon went out, and it crashed to the ground. She tossed the Cain to the side and pulled out her SMG.

“Anderson, I need an evac,” she said, pressing a hand to her earpiece.

“On the way,” Anderson replied.

“Commander, there are more coming,” Javik called. Shepard glanced over to where he was pointing and she threw herself out of the way as a banshee sent a blast scorching towards her. Horrible shrieking filled the air. Shepard felt a headache building and she swore under her breath.

“Sooner is better than later, Anderson,” she said.

“Working on it.”

How many times, in her mess of a life, had she been on a mission where the primary objective was just to survive? Too damn many. But it’d be a hell of a disappointing story if she died right before the final fight. She’d killed Reapers, she wasn’t going to get taken down by a dozen cannibals and some banshees.

“Commander, we’re here!” Anderson called. Shepard spotted the incoming shuttle.

“Garrus, Javik, with me!” she called, and she activated her tactical cloak. She dashed forward, knocking enemies to the side to clear a path for her squad. The shuttle door opened and she leaped forward, immediately turning back to make sure the others made it in one piece. She faded back into visibility as the door shut behind them. Anderson patted Shepard on the shoulder as she got her breath back.

“Very good to see you, sir,” she managed.

“Because I just saved your ass?” he asked, the ghost of a smile on his face.

“That does help,” she said wryly. She rested her head against the wall of the shuttle, the cool metal soothing on her skin. “What’s the situation here?” The wrong question to ask, apparently. Or at least not a happy one. Anderson's face set in a frown.

“I won’t sugar-coat it, Shepard, it’s just about as bad as it could be. We’ve just been trying to stay alive. Thanks in no small part to people like Lieutenant Thompson.” Anderson motioned to the woman standing at attention next to him. Thompson saluted.

“Honour to meet you, ma’am,” she said.

“At ease, Lieutenant. If you’ve been as much of a help as Anderson says, there’s no need to call me ma’am. Shepard’s fine,” Shepard replied. Thompson relaxed her posture slightly. There was the beginning of a shit-eating grin on her face.

“Afraid I can’t do that, ma’am. That name’s taken,” she said. _Marie._

“You’d think I’d get first dibs on the name,” Shepard said dryly. “I’m older.”

“I believe she outranks you, ma’am.”

“Touché, Lieutenant,” Shepard murmured. She moved her head from side to side and there was a disconcerting crack from her neck. Hmm. It probably shouldn’t sound like that. “When’s the briefing, Anderson?”

“Find me once we’re back at the base. You may want to say your goodbyes first,” he said. _Shit._

The shuttle set down a few moments later, and Shepard sent Javik and Garrus off to have a few of their wounds looked at. Then, she went off in search of some of her friends. She wasn’t big on goodbyes, but it would be good to check they were alright. There was one in particular, far more than the others, that she needed to see.

“Jeanne?” a familiar voice called. Shepard turned around and a warm smile spread across her face.

“Marie,” she breathed, and then she was running. Running, and lifting her sister in the air to spin her around. Her vision blurred as she started to cry. Not really the time for it, but some things couldn’t be helped. She gently set Marie down and brushed her greying hair away from her face.

“Are you okay?” she rasped. So many fresh winkles on her sister’s too-young face, so much blood on her Alliance fatigues.

“I’m alright, Jeanne,” Marie reassured her. Shepard laughed breathlessly, nodding.

“Of course you are,” she murmured. “What chance do the Reapers stand against General Shepard?”

“None at all,” Marie chuckled. She wiped away Shepard’s tears and offered her a smile. “You ready to kick some ass?”

“Born ready.”

“Then let’s show them how it’s done.” She turned to leave and Shepard caught her hand, clasping it gently between her own.

“There’s something I need you to know,” she said. Marie hushed her.

“We never say goodbyes,” Marie said softly. Shepard shook her head.

“It’s not a goodbye. I just-- I need you to know that I’m so proud of you, and I love you.” The tears were falling in earnest now. Marie gave her hands a reassuring squeeze, her own eyes shining.

“I love you too,” she murmured. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? We’ve got a wonderful field nurse.”  
…  
Garrus was speaking with the Primarch when he heard her footfalls. He could be on death’s door, his senses failing him, and he’d still recognize them. He’d recognize the crosshatching of scars on her face, the wry twist to her lips.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Shepard asked softly. Jeanne. His Jeanne. He didn’t need to see it to know that his ring was hanging around her neck.

“Yeah,” he said. Victus nodded and went to talk to some of the other officers. Garrus fixed his full attention on Shepard. There was a nasty gash on her forehead, and pieces of her hair were matted with blood. He gently brushed them away as best he could with his gloved hands. “You should get that looked at.”

“I did. It looks worse than it is. There’s a shortage of medi-gel around, a cut is a little low on the list of priorities,” she murmured. If he had lips, he’d have pursed them.

“No point winning a war if you die of an infection right after,” he said. She chuckled lightly. Spirits, even amongst all this blood and death, her laughter still warmed him. He moved closer, his hands coming up to rest on her waist.

“You think we’re going to win?” she asked.

“Of course I do. We’re going to kick some Reaper ass, and then retire somewhere warm and tropical and live off of the royalties from the vids.” He knew she could hear the false bravado in his voice. She didn't comment on it.

“We’re not really the retiring type,” she said instead. He nodded, and his arms wound tighter around her waist.

“Touché. Alright, we help rebuild and _then_ we retire. Maybe find out what a turian-human baby looks like?” She laughed again, the most genuine joy he’d heard from her all day. He wanted to kiss her, he realized. Tried not to think about how this might be his last chance.

“I’m game, but I don’t think biology is going to cooperate,” she said wryly.

“Well, we could always adopt. There are going to be a lot of little krogan running around soon,” he said thoughtfully. 

“You’ve got a deal, Mr. Shepard,” she whispered. He scoffed at that, and was rewarded with that crooked, blood-stained smile. He brought a hand up to cradle her face and she shut her eyes for a moment. The pronounced lines along her forehead softened.

“You better come back alive,” he rasped. “It’d be an awfully empty galaxy without you.” She pressed a kiss to his gloved hand and smiled softly at him.

“I couldn’t have done this without you, Garrus. There’s no Shepard without Vakarian,” she whispered.

“Sure you could’ve. Not as stylishly, of course.”

“You? Stylish? I don’t think so.” He might have laughed, under different circumstances.

“That’s not an answer, Jeanne.”

“I’ll come back,” she promised, and he almost believed her.  
…  
One by one, Shepard spoke to each of her friends. Worlds away from that party in Anderson’s apartment, the time she’d spent with them then. The Citadel was a smoking ruin now, along with the apartment. 

But the words weren’t bitter on her tongue, because it was never a goodbye. She wouldn’t allow herself goodbyes here, at the end. 

“Until next time.” She said it like a prayer, over and over. 

As if she could change what was coming next.

She found Anderson hunched over a holo map of the area. Marie stood at his side, Thompson next to her.

“What are my orders, sir?” Shepard asked. Anderson glanced up at her and motioned her forward.

“Shepard, I’m sending you right up the middle here where the fighting is thickest,” Anderson said. The map shifted in front of him as he spoke. “You need to get up to the conduit, whatever the cost.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, saluting. 

“There’s a problem, though,” Marie said. 

“Just one?” Garrus asked. Marie arched an eyebrow at him, her face otherwise blank. Garrus had the good grace to look embarrassed.

“There’s a Reaper Destroyer in front of the conduit,” Marie explained. She pulled up the centre of the map. James let out a low whistle. It was the same thing that they’d fought on Tuchanka. Oh, her kingdom for a giant thresher maw.

“Now, we have thanix missiles, but we need to get to them,” Anderson said, pointing to another part of the map. 

“Consider it done, sir,” Shepard said. Anderson nodded and issued orders to the rest of the troops. Shepard’s crew gathered around her, awaiting their own instructions. She looked at each of their faces. Scared, tired, but resolute. She loved them all, she realized. With the possible exception of Javik.

And now they were here, at the end of it all. The last not-quite-a-goodbye, and the last stand. Shepard cleared her throat.

“You’ve all heard this speech before. Hell, by this point I’m sure some of you could deliver it for me.” There was a scattering of strained laughter, easing the tension slightly. “This won’t be easy, but we’ve always known that. You all know the stakes. You all know what’s riding on this. Every person in the galaxy is counting on us.”

She stepped forward, and she looked at each of them in turn. Her voice was clear, assured. The tone of command. “I'm not telling you the odds to discourage you. Some of you have helped me save the galaxy twice already. This is nothing you can't handle.”

“Just a walk through the park then, eh boss?” James asked.

“For once, Vega, you're right. Give 'em hell for me. This ends here, and this ends now. But you all better make damn sure you make it out of there alive, understood?”

“That goes for you too, Shepard,” Tali said. Shepard nodded.

“You have my word,” she said.

“We won’t let you down, ma’am,” Ash said, saluting.

“I know you won’t,” Shepard said quietly. “Now go kick some ass.”  
…  
Garrus could live to be one hundred and still never get used to the sight of Shepard in battle. He didn’t know much about Earth religions, but he knew an avenging angel when he saw one. The Reaper forces fell before her, and with the look in her eyes it was a wonder that they didn’t just drop dead automatically.

It was the look on her face that was scaring the shit out of him now. He’d seen it before, on Zorya.

“That’s 56 for me,” he called. Her head jerked towards him, her eyes slightly unfocused. A dangerous game, distracting her in the heat of battle.

“What?” she said. Without looking, she hit a marauder dead between the eyes.

“I said: 56 for me. Try and keep up, Shepard, I’m getting awfully tired from carrying the team over here.” A ghost of a smile flickered across her face, gone as soon as it came.

“I’m at 60,” she said, and she went back to work.

It was silent after that. Well, as silent as a warzone ever was. There was the ever-present screaming of the dead and dying all around them, the shrieking of the banshees, the helpless cries of the people they couldn’t save in time.

They finally reached the thanix missiles, and Anderson wired to let them know that they needed to be adjusted in order to get an accurate fix. Garrus and Shepard took over most of the fighting as EDI fixed the coordinates.

Garrus didn’t particularly want to dwell on the battle. It had been ugly on Palaven, on Thessia, but not like this. The Reaper forces were entrenched here, and they’d warped the landscape to suit them. Ashes and blood were in the air, mixed in with the acrid smell of burning hair and decomposing bodies.

He didn’t want to dwell on the battle.

A few crowded moments later, and the Reaper Destroyer came crashing to the ground. Garrus, EDI, and Shepard piled into an armoured vehicle with Anderson. There was a momentary feeling of exhilaration. They were almost there.

It didn't last long. The ground shook beneath them. A violent explosion rocked them, sending the vehicle careening forward. Garrus lost track of time after that. There was a ringing in his ears, pain everywhere. He was only distantly aware of someone’s arms around him, carrying him out. 

But that wasn’t right. He knew who was carrying him. Even on death’s door he’d know her, and it sure as hell felt like he was on death’s door at the moment.

Shepard’s voice broke him out of his reverie slightly, barking an order.

“Joker, I need an evac _now,”_ she snapped. Garrus didn’t hear the response, didn’t hear much of anything. The next thing he felt was the warm arms around him letting go and handing him over to someone else. He instinctively reached back out to Shepard and she grabbed hold of his hand.

“You’ve gotta get out of here,” she said. He rallied enough to respond.

“And you’ve gotta be kidding me,” he managed. Like hell he was letting her do this alone. As soon as he figured out how to walk again, he was going to follow her into hell. He had to.

“No matter what happens out there, Garrus Vakarian, know that I love you.” _Oh spirits, no. Please don't leave me._

“Shepard I-- I love you too,” he murmured. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, and then the love of his life was gone. He blacked out not long after.  
...  
She didn’t look back as she ran. If she saw Garrus’ face, she wouldn’t be able to keep going. Maybe that was why she was caught off guard by the single, blaring laser beam coming at her. She barely threw herself out of the way in time, and one of the stray vehicles came crashing down on top of her.

She woke to the smell of burning flesh. It may have been hers, she didn’t know. She moved, and her body screamed at her in agony. Pieces of her armour were fused to her body, and the rest was a smoking ruin. Each movement was a little death, each step forward a symphony of pain ringing through her every part of her.

But she kept walking, stumbling forward.

Her weapons had been fried in the blast and so she grabbed the first pistol that she could find. A few husks came at her and she weakly managed to take them out before they could get close. 

She stepped onto the conduit, and her vision went black.

  
Shepard's eyes fluttered open, and she gagged. She was surrounded on every side by the shattered remains of the other people who had been taken. The keepers picked through the wreckage, and she shuddered to think too much about that.

“Shepard?” Anderson said. She groaned as she struggled to sit up.

“Yes sir,” she said.

“Where are you? I followed you up, but I think we came up in different spots.” She heaved herself to her feet and swayed unsteadily. Her bad leg threatened to give out, but she kept going. She'd come too damn far now to stop. She'd fucking crawl if she had to. 

“I'm in some kind of tunnel. Not like any part of the Citadel I've been to,” she rasped. 

“Me too,” he said. “I'm going to look on ahead.”

“Don't get too far ahead of me,” she said. Silence on the other end of the line. “Anderson? _Anderson?”_

She forced her battered body forward, limping through the Citadel. She found a kind of bridge stretching across a chasm, and she pushed forward through the blinding pain. She ended up half-crawling, half-walking up the steep incline at the end of the bridge. As she crested the top, she saw him hunched over a control panel.

“Anderson!” she called, relief plain in his voice. She dashed forward as much as she could, her body screaming at her to stop. He turned around shakily, his face frozen in a rictus of fear. His movements were awkward, unnatural.

“Shepard, wait--”

“I underestimated you, Shepard,” the Illusive Man murmured, walking up behind her. Shepard stiffened, her eyes flashing to his face. His face, entirely warped and twisted to a blackened scar of technology.

“You look like shit,” she said, and then she froze. Was forced to freeze. Whispers spun around her like cobwebs, black smoke clinging to her lungs. _What the fuck?_

“I warned you. Control is the means to survival. Control of the Reapers...and of you, if necessary,” the Illusive Man said. Shepard tried to shake her head, but couldn't. Tried to move at all, couldn’t. She desperately tried to raise her pistol to take a shot at him, but she couldn’t move.

“They’re controlling you,” Anderson managed. The Illusive Man tutted like a disappointed school teacher.

“I don’t think so, Admiral,” he said. Shepard was still trying to move something, anything. She settled for her mouth. If she could just get him to see...

“Controlling me is a lot different than controlling a Reaper,” she spat.

“Have a little faith.” He turned away from her, and she could’ve screamed. “When humanity discovered the mass relays, when we learned there was more to the galaxy than we imagined...there were some who thought the relays should be destroyed. They were scared of what we’d find. Terrified of what we might let in. But look at what humanity has achieved. Since that discovery, we’ve advanced more than the past 10,000 years combined. And the Reapers will do the same for us again, a thousand fold.” 

Here he looked at Shepard, and moved towards her. Her hand rose of its own accord, pointing the pistol she was carrying at Anderson. Shepard grit her teeth as her finger itched to pull the trigger.

“But only if we can harness their ability to control,” he murmured.

“Bullshit. We destroy them or they destroy us,” Anderson said.

“And waste this opportunity? Never.”

“You’re playing with things you don’t understand. With power you shouldn’t be able to use,” Shepard snapped. 

“I...don’t believe that. If we can control it, why shouldn’t it be ours?” There was a touch of defensiveness in the Illusive Man’s voice.

“No one should have that kind of power.” Her voice was soft, but firm. Resolute. He shook his head.

“No. This is the way humanity must evolve.”

“There’s always a choice,” Shepard rasped. The words she lived her life by, for what little that was worth.

“I’ve dedicated my life to understanding the Reapers. I know that the Crucible can allow me to control them.”

“And then what?” she whispered. She saw confusion flash across his face before he regained some of his composure.

“Look at the power they wield! Look at what they can do!” The Illusive Man swept his arm up and there was a burst of purple biotic energy. The whispers grew closer, clawing at Shepard’s throat. She felt her finger tighten on the trigger, the gun still pointing at Anderson.

_No._

She didn’t know where the voice came from, but it was quiet, insistent. The crawling black shadows retreated for a second, and a second was all that Shepard needed. She bit down on her tongue, hard. In the moment of distraction, the pain, she loosened her grip on the pistol and it fell to the ground. She straightened as much as she could, every movement an agony. She looked the Illusive Man dead in the eyes and she sneered.

“I see what they did to you,” she said. He shook his head again, but she recognized the look in her eyes; fear. Her oldest friend.

“I took what I wanted from the Reapers! I made it my own! This isn’t about me or you, this is about things so much bigger than all of us,” he said.

“If we destroy the Reapers this ends today. But if you can’t control them…” she let the sentence hang in the air.

“But I can!” the Illusive Man protested, and she may well have been hallucinating, but she could’ve sworn that there was a hint of desperation there.

“Are you willing to bet humanity’s existence on it?” she asked quietly.

“I...know it will work!” he said. He shook his head again as if to clear it, his hands rising up to either side of his marred face.

“You think so? Think about stopping them. Can you do it?” she asked. She waited for a beat. “You can’t, can you? They won’t let you.”

“That’s not--”

“Listen to her,” Anderson said. “You’re indoctrinated.”

“No, no! The two of you, so self-righteous. You think power like this comes easy? There are sacrifices--”

“You’ve sacrificed too much,” she snapped. That seemed to sap all the fight out of him. His hands fell to his sides.

“Shepard I-- I just wanted to protect humanity. The Crucible can do it, I know it can…” he trailed off. She seized the opportunity for all it was worth.

“It’s not too late,” she said gently. “Please. Let us go. We’ll do the rest.”

“I...can’t do that, Commander,” he admitted. He moved towards her and picked up the pistol from where she’d dropped it. He carefully examined it.

“Try harder. Don’t let them win. _Don’t let them control you."_

“I-- I tried, Shepard.” There was a bang, and he collapsed to the ground. The whispers released her and she fell to the ground as well with a sickening crack. She’d moved so far past pain that she couldn’t tell what she’d broken. Anderson was in about the same condition. Together, they opened the arms of the Citadel for the Crucible. They both lowered themselves to the ground, leaning against the raised dais in the centre of the room. They were quiet for a moment, as Earth came into view.

“Best seats in the house,” she said softly. Anderson chuckled weakly and it turned into a cough.

“I guess this is it, huh?” he said.

“Yeah,” Shepard whispered.

“You did good, child,” Anderson said, looking over at her. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, sir,” she managed. Her eyes fluttered closed, the darkness all around her.  
.  
 _See Jeanne, lying shattered on the ground. Her body bruised and bloodied, so far past pain she feels nothing at all. See her tears fall like rain, as her mentor, the closest damn thing she’s ever had to a father, closes his eyes. There is a call over the comms, and there is no hesitation._

_“What do you need me to do?” she asks. She drags her body forward, barely able to hold on as the platform below her rises into the ceiling. She stands on legs that cannot hold her, to face what comes next._  
.  
“You have been a thorn in our side for some time, Commander Shepard.” What hideous sin had she committed lately, that she now needed to be face-to-face with Kaidan? His laughing eyes were dim, his face impassive.

“I get that a lot,” she said, through gritted teeth. Blood on her tongue, blood everywhere. “Who are you?”

“I am the Catalyst. I have chosen a form that I believe you are familiar with.”

“You’ve chosen a dead friend in order to fuck with me.”

“I meant no offense. Organics find it easier to speak with a solid construct. I thought it might be a comfort.” Kaidan’s voice was there, but it was layered with a thousand other voices, all speaking slightly out of time with one another.

“You thought wrong,” she said bitterly. And then, “I thought the Citadel was the Catalyst.”

“The Citadel is a part of me, but it is not the whole.”

“So then what are you?” she asked.

“I am the answer to a question,” the Catalyst said. Shepard bit back the sharp retort.

“What question?”

“For as long as organics have existed, they have created synthetics. In turn, the distrust between the two factions led to war, and eventual extinction. I was created to find a solution to this problem. There can be no peace by conventional means,” he explained.

“You’re wrong,” Shepard said, and the soft sound of singing filled her ears.

“Explain,” Not-Kaidan said. Jeanne shook her head, blood dripping down her face.

“I have brokered peace between the Quarians and the Geth.”

“A momentary armistice in a bloody history. It cannot last.”

“I count A.I. among my closest friends.”

“Do they count you amongst theirs?”

“Yes,” she said, and she reached into her battered armour, every movement an agony. She pulled out her dog tags, her wedding ring, and the victory ring that EDI had given her, miraculously intact. Not-Kaidan’s eyebrows rose, but his face remained impassive.

“You are the exception that proves the rule, Commander. What happens if you are not around to broker peace?” he asked. She didn't have an answer to that. Not yet.

“You said you were created to solve the problem. Have you?”

“The Reapers are the solution. Every civilization falls into the same conflicts, and they end up destroyed. We have watched this play out over countless cycles. The Reapers harvest the civilizations, and from that harvest a new Reaper is born,” the Catalyst said. He was, for whatever reason, apparently willing to answer her questions.

“What do you know of the Crucible?” Shepard asked suddenly. Not-Kaidan’s eyebrows knitted together slightly.

“It is a power source. Crude, but effective. We noted its design several cycles ago. We wrongly assumed that it had disappeared.”

“So you're not infallible,” Shepard said. The Catalyst considered her for a moment.

“Perhaps. That you, and organic, are here proves that. Your presence proves that the cycle cannot continue as it has.”

“So then what happens?” she asked warily.

“That is up to you,” the Catalyst said. Wasn’t it always?

The Catalyst patiently explained the different options in that horrible multi-layered voice. On one end of the room was a blue panel that would allow her to control the Reapers, losing all sense of herself. On the other end was a red pipe. Shooting it would destroy the Reapers. He claimed that it would also destroy all other technology, including other AI.

In the centre of the room, there was a green pillar of light.

“And that one?” Shepard asked.

“Synthesis. Every race in the galaxy reformed, recreated to be both organic and synthetic. That is the only route to peace.”

“And what would I need to do?”

“You are a combination of organic and synthetic, your essence would be used as the matrix on which all others would be made.”

Jeanne considered the Catalyst for a moment, and then turned to look at that pillar of green light. To her slowly dimming eyes, it looked like a pyre. It figured, didn’t it, that as soon as she’d given up self-sacrifice, the universe asked her to die for a cause.

“You would have me rewrite the identity of every being in this galaxy. You would have me dictate the identity of every creature in existence. That’s not freedom,” she said.

“You would have them die?”

“You’ve been killing them wantonly for hundreds of thousands of years. Why do you care now?” she asked.

“It was in the pursuit of peace,” the Catalyst explained patiently. Shepard shook her head.

“Don’t you think we deserve to find peace on our own terms?” she asked quietly. Kaidan’s kind eyes studied her.

“Impossible,” he said at last.

“You’re wrong,” she said again.

“I have spent millenia determining this solution. I am not wrong.”

“You’ve admitted yourself that you didn’t expect the Crucible to be completed. So how much do you know about organics, really? Nothing. What do you know about synthetics? Nothing. You have sat here watching the cycles go by, but you didn't really look.”

“Behaviour is predictable, across every cycle.”

“The more things change?”

“The more they stay the same, yes.”

Shepard limped closer until she was inches away from Not-Kaidan. The same face she'd seen in countless nightmares, the memory of Virmire haunting her.

“I think that you’re wrong,” she said, one final time. “You know nothing about the Crucible as it is now. Organics and synthetics have worked together to build and perfect it. So when you tell me that it will destroy all other A.I., I don’t believe you. Your Reapers have told me themselves how much better they are than anyone else, how much more advanced. Why would something designed to destroy them also destroy my friends?”

“Are you willing to bet the galaxy on it?” he asked.

“I’m not the one who’s been playing chess with the lives of civilizations,” Shepard said sharply. Her vision was fading, but she could see more clearly than she had in days.

“You’re making a mistake.”

“Not this time.”

And with that, she pulled out her pistol and unloaded every shot into the pipe. 

_Like iron_  
 _From the fire_  
 _Gettin' stronger_  
 _This is how legends are made_  
-Legends Are Made, Sam Tinnesz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter! happy ending time folks


	43. Endings, Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three years post war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who has read and commented and joined me on this wild ride! this is far and away the longest thing i've ever written, and i couldn't have gotten through it without you <3

_I think we deserve_  
 _a soft epilogue, my love._  
 _We are good people_  
 _and we’ve suffered enough._  
-Seventy Years of Sleep #4, nikka ursula

_How does the story end? Well, it’s hard to say. Some will tell you that the Shepard ended in a blaze of glory, fading into legend. But there are clues of her progress, if you know where to look. Reconstruction efforts on planets through the galaxy bear her mark, children through time bear her name. So much history was lost in the years following the war that the truth has been muddied past recognition. Here is the story as I choose to believe it._

“When’s your ship due to get in?” Shepard asked. She was sitting up in her bed, her close-cropped curls sticking out at odd angles. She had a vid screen propped up in front of her. Garrus had the camera held up close to his face, bits of the Normandy's bridge visible behind him.

“An hour, but my pilot’s absolutely terrible,” he said.

“I heard that!” Joker called from off-screen.

“You were supposed to!” Garrus shot back.

“You know? Just for that, I’m going to fly slower.”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do that, Joker,” Shepard said wryly.

“It is not optimal to travel at a slower speed,” EDI added.

“Ugh, fine! We’ll be there in an hour,” Joker griped.

“See you then,” Shepard said. She returned her attention to Garrus’ face, and whispered, “I love you.”

“Love you too!” Joker yelled in a falsely chipper voice.

“She could not have been more clearly talking to me,” Garrus said exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. And then, “I love you too, Jeanne.”

Shepard smiled crookedly and ended the call. She rolled out of bed and ran a hand through her hair, yawning. She took her medication, and she pulled on her clothes, settling on her cargo pants and a practical sweater. The winter chill was still clinging to the streets of London, frost on the windows.

Her joints whirred quietly as she walked. In truth, she was more synthetic than organic at this point. The battle for Earth hadn’t exactly left her in a stellar state. Both legs were gone, as was her right arm. Everything else was scar tissue, really. She felt better than she had in years.

She strode through the halls to the kitchen to make some breakfast. Everyone else was still asleep, and she reveled in the quiet stillness of the kitchen as she brewed her coffee, stirring in a sprinkling of cinnamon. James had insisted that she learn how to “properly” cook eggs, so she pulled out the recipe and started making her breakfast. She had just finished cooking when steps sounded down the corridor. She didn't need to turn around to know who was coming.

“Hey, how’d you sleep?” Shepard asked, sipping at her coffee.

“Shit as always. I think it’s in the DNA,” her clone complained. Jo, now. Her twin, she told people. Jo was out on good behaviour, doing community service, and Shepard had figured that there was no better place to do that than here. 

After the war had ended, Shepard, Garrus, Anderson, and Kahlee Sanders had opened a home for orphans. The kind of kids that Shepard had been, once. They got food, a warm bed, and an education. Shepard had wracked up an awful lot of credits over the years, and she was all too happy to spend them on this. There was one on every major Council world, each run by different members of Shepard's old crew.

“Nope, I think it’s just you,” Shepard said cheerfully. Jo pulled a face and flipped her off. Still a little disconcerting, seeing her own face frown at her, but she was slowly starting to get used to it. Besides, no one would mistake Jo for her these days. She still had all of her limbs intact, for one, and she’d kept her hair long.

“Miss Jeanne!” a voice called. A small, quick child of seven darted into the room.

“Yes Percy?” Shepard asked, leaning down.

“You've got a visitor!” Shepard's heart skipped a beat.

“Thank you. Now have some breakfast before class, alright?” She pushed her uneaten meal towards them.

“Yes ma'am!” They eagerly tucked in, and Shepard ruffled their hair affectionately. 

“You all good here, Jo?” Shepard asked. Her clone waved her away. Shepard nodded and headed for the main entrance. She opened the door, a smile on her face.

“You’re early--” she began, but it wasn’t Garrus. It was greying black hair, a warm smile.

“Marie,” Shepard breathed. She rushed forward and wrapped her sister in a bear hug, lifting her clear off of her feet. Marie laughed and patted her on the back.

“Hello, Jeanne,” she said. Shepard gently set her down.

“And hello to you too, Commander Thompson,” Shepard said, offering a hand to Marie’s head of security. Thompson shook it, smiling widely.

“Always a pleasure, ma’am,” she said. Shepard shook her head.

“I’m a civilian now, I’m going to have to insist you call me Jeanne,” she said.

“Can’t do that, ma’am.”

“Not even for your future sister-in-law?”

“Sorry, ma’am.” Thompson had a grin on her face now, and Shepard couldn’t help but smile back.

“Come in, come in,” she said. She ushered Marie and Thompson through the door and down the brightly lit corridors.

“To what do I owe the honour of a visit from Earth’s councilor?” she asked as they walked. Marie arched an eyebrow.

“I can’t just visit the only family I have? I’m wounded, Jeanne.”

“You haven’t taken a break since before the war. Forgive me if I’m a little skeptical.”

“When’s the last time _you_ took a break?” Marie asked wryly. Shepard chuckled and shook her head.

“No world-ending calamities? No broken bones? This _is_ a break,” she said. 

“It suits you,” Marie murmured, smiling softly.

“Thanks. Don’t think I don’t notice you not answering my question,” Shepard said. Marie shook her head and let out a small sigh.

“Ask me later. I need to have a word with Anderson first.”

“If it’s about politics, I’m sure he’ll be delighted,” Shepard said dryly. Marie laughed gently, windchimes in the breeze.

“I’m sure he will be,” she said. Shepard led Marie and Thompson to the office and knocked on the door rhythmically.

“Come in,” Anderson called. Shepard swung the door open, a grin on her face.

“We’ve got company, sir,” she said brightly.

“Call me sir one more time and I’m launching you into space,” he said. He glanced up and a smile spread across his face.

“Councilor!” he exclaimed warmly. He stepped back from the desk and around to the door. “To what do we owe the honour?”

“Jeanne assures me that you’re not going to like it,” Marie said dryly.

“Not politics again?” he groaned. Shepard couldn’t help but chuckle at the exasperation in his voice.

“I’ll leave you to it!” she called, and shut the door behind her, laughing softly to herself.

Shepard had never been one for patience, so after another five minutes of sitting around, she took matters into her own hands. She grabbed her coat and scarf, and the keys for her skybike (a motorcycle for the air. Garrus affectionately called it a deathtrap), and headed out the door.

Snow was still lightly falling from the sky as she tore through the freezing air. She laughed brightly as the wind whipped through her hair, her scarf billowing behind her. Flouting several traffic laws, she was at the landing dock just as the Normandy touched down. The walkway to the loading dock descended and a familiar figure appeared at the top.

“Garrus!” Shepard shouted, and she was running. Running, and launching herself into his open arms. They ended up on the ground, a tangle of limbs and breathless laughter.

“Spirits, at least let me get off the ship first,” Garrus joked. Shepard rolled off of him and helped him to his feet. She immediately pulled him back into her arms, resting her forehead against his.

“I missed you, Mr. Shepard,” she whispered. He snorted derisively. 

“Is that any way to talk to the Primarch's advisor?” he asked.

“Oh, excuse _me._ Mr. Shepard, _sir,”_ she replied. He rolled his eyes, but there was laughter there. Laughter, and something else. So easy now, to recognize love. They fell into step together, hand in hand.

“How are the reconstruction efforts?” she asked. That was the deal; they’d each spend a few months apart, and then Garrus would join her on Earth, or Shepard would come to Palaven. It was necessary; they each had work that they needed to do, and places that they needed to be. Still, it was always a relief to see him again, safe and in one piece.

“Better than I expected,” he said.

“Your family's okay?”

“They're doing great.”

“Glad to hear it. It was nice to meet them last time,” she said.

“I know, they wouldn't stop talking about how much they loved you,” he griped. Her smile widened and she pressed a kiss to the back of his hand.

“Of course they did, I’m a damn delight,” she replied. She felt more than heard the exasperated sigh, and then his mouth was on hers as his arms wrapped tight around her.

She could’ve died at any point over the past thirty-five years. Every bullet could have been the last. But somehow, some way, she was still alive and kicking. She wasn’t going to let that go to waste. And so as she kissed Garrus, she whispered how much she loved him, how much she’d missed him, how much she treasured him, in an unending mantra.

The universe hadn’t given her this. She’d had to fight for it tooth and nail, and she was going to make every goddamn second count.  
…  
There were a few things in this life that Garrus really loved, but none of them compared to seeing Shepard happy and healthy, glowing like the sun. Her warm brown eyes lit up when she saw him, and her arms were strong as she held him. Three years in recovery had done a lot to heal her, and every time he saw her she looked even better. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this, to deserve her, but he was damn grateful for it.

It had been touch-and-go, when she’d first come back. He was barely conscious at the time, still wounded from the battle on Earth. He’d parsed together the events based on what the others had told him.

As he understood it, there had been a bright red light that destroyed the Reapers, leaving everything else intact. They’d just barely rescued Shepard and Anderson in time, before the Normandy landed on Earth. They’d both been rushed to the med-bay. They were there for a long, long time, with both EDI and Dr. Chakwas helping to heal them.

Garrus had been through a lot of shit in his life, but the days before Shepard woke up had been the worst. She’d been beat up after Rannoch, but not like this. Not like this. There was so little of her left, so little that hadn’t been shattered and broken beyond repair.

It was a long time before she opened her eyes. He’d waited by her bedside, willing her to wake up. Waiting.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” had been her first words to him. He’d wanted to scream, to cry, to kiss her. But that wasn’t what she needed.

“You look like shit,” he’d croaked. Her chuckle had turned into a hacking wheeze. His heart had seized up at that, almost stuttering to a stop.

“How bad is it? No one will let me see a mirror,” she had rasped.

“Hell, Shepard, you were always ugly. Slap a coat of paint on there and no one will know the difference,” he’d murmured. And then, “Never do that to me again.”

“I promise,” she’d said, and he’d finally believed her.

For the rest of his days, he’d never forget how it felt to lose her. He remembered it each time he kissed her, held her in his arms, and so he kissed her harder and held her tighter.

“How are things here?” he whispered against her lips. So hard to pull away from her, even now. Especially now.

“Come see for yourself,” she murmured, and he was never going to get tired of the light dancing in her eyes.  
…  
Dinner was always a cacophony. Kids argued over each other and chatted about the day. The food was plentiful and nourishing, and what they didn't eat they donated. It was, in many ways, the childhood that Shepard had always wanted. To be honest, she’d never dared to dream of happiness like this. She’d never imagined feeling so warm, so loved, her husband to the right of her and her family all around.

After dinner, she and Garrus joined Marie, Thompson, Anderson, and Kahlee up in the teacher’s lounge. She settled into one of the plush couches and leaned back. Garrus threw his arm loosely around her shoulders.

“So, what’s the damage?” Shepard asked. When Marie only raised an eyebrow, she rephrased, “What brings you here?”

“You were right, I’m not just here to visit you,” Marie admitted. “I’m petitioning the Council to have the quarians, geth, and krogan be included.”

Shepard’s eyebrows just about shot through the roof. “Well hell, Marie, you really don’t think small. That’s a great idea.”

“I’m glad you think so, because I’m here to ask for your help,” Marie said. Ah. The other shoe.

“You know I’m not made for politics,” Shepard protested quickly, but she could see that Marie wasn't going to be swayed.

“If anyone’s going to be able to convince them, it’s you. You personally saved the councilors' lives twice now, and you’ve saved the galaxy a handful of times.”

“Oh, only a handful?”

“Please, Jeanne?” For a moment, Marie looked like that young girl that Shepard had looked after all those years ago. She never had been able to say no to her.

“Alright, alright, I’ll go talk to them. I’ve been meaning to go see the Citadel anyways,” Shepard relented.

“Wonderful,” Marie said brightly. “We leave in two days.”

“...fine,” Shepard grumbled.

“Oh, Jeanne, don’t look so glum. Some old friends of yours will be coming along as representatives,” Marie said, and Shepard’s face suddenly lit up.

“Which old friends?”

  
Much later, Shepard shut the door to her room behind her. Garrus was already on the bed, his arms open for her. She launched herself at him enthusiastically.

“Careful, I’m very delicate!” Garrus protested. Shepard laughed brightly and shook her head.

“Don’t be a baby,” she said. 

“Hey, it’s not my fault that my wife is 70% metal,” he complained. “It's like spooning with a rifle.” Shepard rolled his eyes and pulled him into a kiss. It was slow, gentle. They had time. The rest of their lives, in fact. She eventually drew back, pressing soft kisses along his face, his neck.

“So, off to the next thing, huh?” Garrus said breathlessly. Shepard felt his hand tracing patterns on her back. She nuzzled her head against his neck and let out a small sigh.

“We never were retiring people,” she murmured. He chuckled, and it reverberated through her whole body.

“Very true,” he said. She arranged herself more comfortably, her long limbs flung haphazardly across him. His arms were wrapped firmly around her, and he hummed contentedly.

“I missed you,” she said again.

“Of course you did, I’m a damn delight,” he whispered against her hair. She let out a soft laugh and snuggled in closer.

“You’ve got me there, Vakarian.”

“I’ve got you everywhere, Shepard. Here.” His hand caressed her arm. “Here.” Her back, the tattoo mangled by scars. “Here.” Gently ghosting across her lips. “And here.” Resting on her chest, above her heart. Her heart, suddenly racing a mile a minute.

“You’re just a big softie,” she rasped. Her eyes found his.

“Ah, but I’m your softie, Jeanne,” he murmured, and he kissed her again.

They had all the time in the world. The rest of their lives, in fact.


End file.
